Breaking Novikov
by reenas-as
Summary: Buffy and Spike died miserable and alone. Dawn is going to fix that. So what if she has to break the laws of physics and the temporal prime directive to do it?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: So, this fic was written off a prompt posted by 3hours on the Elysian Fields auction site for Tam and Kain in February 2013. I wasn't part of the auction and I believe the prompt was picked up by another author, but in a subsequent post 3hours said "the more Dawn time travel fics the better", which sounded to me like permission to go for it. Since the prompt wouldn't leave my head (darn plot bunnies) here's my take on it. Credit for the basic story idea to 3hours. Please find the original prompt below.

Original Request (by 3hours): I'd like to see a(nother) time-travel Spuffy story! However, unlike most time-travel stories where it's Spike or Buffy themselves that go back to fix things, I'd like to see Dawn be the one. In a post-Chosen, post-NFA future that is not comic compliant and in which both Spike and Buffy are dead (the circumstances are entirely up to you, but they were not together and not happy), Dawn explores her latent powers and discovers that she can not only travel between dimensions but also in time. She decides to go back (how far back is up to you) and sort out Spike & Buffy so they won't die miserable and apart. Maybe she also helps her younger self come to terms with being The Key and what that means, if applicable? I don't mind who writes it, but would prefer for it to be long-ish so the Spuffy can develop slowly rather than fall-into-each-others-arms-at-the-drop-of-a-hat scenario. The only thing I'm adamant about really is that the chip either never gets put in or it comes out asap, allowing for Spike to *choose* to change rather than be forced to.

A/N 2: Yeah, so this is part 1 of 3 - we're going to call it a "moderately off-canon season 4". Enjoy.

**Prologue:**

_Sunnydale, November 1999_

Dawn flew out of the portal she'd created and right into a familiar black clad figure with a solid thump. Her momentum and his surprise sent them down a tangle of arms and legs, but she wasn't in much of a position to complain at the moment. She pushed herself up enough to get a good look at her surroundings and realized she was on the ridge overlooking the UC Sunnydale campus. The moon hung, a nearly perfect silver disc, high overhead and Spike was shaking his head, as though to clear it, beneath her. He was here and the moon was nearly full, which meant that it must be the night before Oz would meet Veruca – the she-werewolf whose death had prompted him to leave Sunnydale and Willow. The night Spike was supposed to be captured by the Initiative.

"Oh, thank God." Dawn murmured. Exactly when and where she wanted to be. Though she'd certainly cut it close enough. "I made it just in time." She couldn't hear anyone nearby and the charm around her neck wasn't glowing so the Initiative soldiers must not have arrived yet. She had no doubt that they were slinking about somewhere though. They didn't have much time, but for now Spike was safe and she was going to keep it that way. She could feel his solid form beneath her and she wanted nothing more than to hug him. She would have done it too, if he hadn't suddenly come back to himself.

"What the hell?" Spike pushed her off of him and stood, dusting himself off. He tilted his head, blinking down at her in curiosity. "What have we got here? Delivery?"

He reached for her and she smothered her reflexive yelp. She didn't want to attract the attention of any nearby soldiers. Any urge she had to lock her arms around him and not let go for a week suddenly vanished as he ran his tongue along his teeth hungrily.

"Don't eat me, don't eat me!" she cried softly, suddenly recalling that this wasn't her Spike. Not yet. This Spike was unchipped, untamed, and didn't know her from Adam, or, well, Eve, she supposed would be more appropriate.

Spike was practically on top of her now. "Don't see why I shouldn't. You look like a right tasty morsel."

Dawn winced away from the predatory look in his eye, stumbling for something that would make him back off long enough for her to get herself together and explain why she was here. She hadn't been expecting this, though, in retrospect, she should have. In her sudden panic she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I'm not human." she said.

His scarred brow hitched upward and he took a deep sniff. "Smell human enough to me."

Crap. She'd forgotten how good a job those monks had done. He reached for her once more and she pulled away, shielding herself out of reflex even though her rational mind knew it wouldn't do any good. "I just saved your life . . . er, unlife," she tried. Well, she hadn't finished the job yet, but if he'd stop trying to eat her she would.

He snorted; rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, that just proves you're stupid. Survival of the fittest and whatnot. Be doin' the human race a favor, really, eatin' you."

"Spike!" She pouted and amazingly he stopped short, head tilting to the side in that familiar way, eyes full of questions.

"Do I know you?" he asked. "Only, you seem a bit familiar."

There was no hope he remembered her. How could he? She didn't even exist yet, but she imagined her mannerisms were enough like Buffy's that he might think he did. Sensing her chance she pounced. "Yes. Sort of. I'm your friend."

Spike snorted, all softness leaving his face as his gaze narrowed derisively. "Funny, don't recall having any human _friends_. Difficult to get to know someone when you're plannin' ta eat them."

"Yes, well, be that as it may . . ." she trailed off, waving her arms frantically as he advanced once more. "I really am. I swear. And – and – if you kill me now bad things will happen! Future altering, possible world ending bad things. To you," she added hastily as he still seemed unconvinced. "Bad things will happen to you. And the universe. Like, time warping, universe unraveling type bad." That last was a bit of a stretch. Alright, it was an outright lie, but if it made him listen to her long enough for her to explain things to him, well, he'd forgive her when he and Buffy were happy and together, right?

Miraculously he stopped advancing, but before Dawn could breathe a sigh of relief he thrust out his chin and sniffed suspiciously. "Oi, what was that bit about saving my unlife?"

Chapter End Notes:

Okay - so, as I've been saying, I don't usually post stories until they are completely finished (techinically part I of BN is finished, but part II and II aren't), but I'm going to give it a shot. Also, this is edited by me, but unbeta'd. If you know anyone willing to commit to Beta a 1000 page series, please point them in my direction.

Also, this first arc is heavily Spike/Dawn friendship centered. But the spuffy is coming, I promise! And my inner geek/nerd will probably be showing. A lot. A lot of the first arc will also gloss over events from the show with minimal changes to the primary action. There is a reason for that, and I try to summarize unchanged scenes and just showcase the altered or alternate POV stuff, but undoubtably there will be times when you think "what the heck? When will she start with the big changes?" The answer to that is Part II. So, if you're up for a long, slow-burn kind of spuffy ride, welcome to the journey.

Because this story is epic-in-length I will try to post at least twice a month. Emphasis on try. My RL is very, very busy (as I'm sure many of ours are), and I like to have chapters well edited before I post.

Thanks - reenas-as


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: And because that prologue was ridiculously short . . . you get chapter 1 same day. Aren't you excited?

**Chapter 1**

_Sunnydale, November 1999_

"Oi, what was that bit about saving my unlife?"

Oh, right. He'd told her once that he'd been so preoccupied with his soliloquy to Buffy that he'd never even noticed the soldiers sneaking up on him. It was when she'd shown him the Evil Overlord's list, wanting to know how accurate it was to real life villains. He'd said he wished someone had shown it to him sooner, might have kept him from having a chip shoved up his brain.

"Soldiers. They're tracking you. They're going to taze you and take you to an underground facility to do experiments on you."

"Right. And you know this how?"

"Because I do."

"Uh, huh," he eyed her skeptically. "An' you're telling me this because . . . ?"

She held his gaze with as much sincerity as she could muster considering he still looked as though he was half-considering eating her. He stared back for several long, silent, moments. And then –

"Friends," they said together.

"Right," he said, sniffing and wiping the side of his nose with his thumb, but he didn't seem inclined to argue the point. Maybe he was considering her story? "Soldiers you say? So, the Slayer finally got funded, eh? Always knew she'd be a right terror she ever got some government backing."

"No!" Her loud protest made the vampire wince and she lowered her voice to save his sensitive ears. If he noticed he didn't let on. "Buffy would never do that," she said more quietly, but with no less intensity.

His eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion and he stalked closer to her. God, had he ever looked this dangerous? In her manufactured memories he'd seemed so . . . ambiguously evil. Now she realized her sister and their friends had had good reason to fear this vamp back in the day. He leaned in and for a moment she thought he was going to bite her, but instead he . . . sniffed her? Okay. That was weird.

"Buffy? You're with the Slayer." He looked loose, but she recognized the tension in his muscles. He was getting ready for a fight.

"No. Yes. Well . . . it's complicated. But I'm not going to hurt you. Will you please just listen to me?" She'd already decided that Spike was her best bet in this time. He'd told her that summer when Buffy had been dead that he loved the slayer from the start. That it had been buried, but always present. The chip had just given him an excuse to stick around long enough for it to come out. She didn't plan to tell him all that though. This was Spike the Big Bad who was still in love with Drusilla. He didn't want to hear about Slayers and White Hats and souls. Didn't give a toss, as he would say, for redemption or being a better man. Nothing would send him running faster than the knowledge that the slayer was his destiny. And she _was_ his destiny; Dawn was going to make sure of it. She just wasn't going to tell _him_ that. Still, she was hoping she could tell him just enough of the truth that he'd believe her and agree to play along with her plan.

"And why would a friend of the Slayer want anything to do with me?" he asked.

Here it was, the moment she'd been waiting for. Spike liked the world; he'd told Buffy so when he'd helped stop his first apocalypse, the one with Angelus and Acathala. She was hoping it would be enough to hold his interest now.

She took a deep, calming breath. "We need your help to save the world."

He snorted. "Vampire, here, pet. Not exactly into good deeds."

"This isn't about good deeds. It's about dog racing and Manchester United and a steady supply of Happy Meals on Legs." She smiled slightly as she paraphrased the words he'd given her sister as his excuse for standing with her against Angelus.

His eyes widened as he clearly got the reference. "You do know me, don't you? Leastwise the Slayer's told you something about me."

"Yes," she said firmly. "I do." There was a rustling in the bushes. Crap, she'd forgotten they were on a tight schedule. The Initiative could be watching them right now, wondering why a subterrestrial was taking the time to talk to his dinner. She cast a quick look down at her pendant. Still not glowing, but she wasn't one hundred percent sure on the radius of this thing's detection and she didn't want to take any chances.

She caught Spike's sleeve before he could turn toward the sound. He looked down at her hand in something like surprise. "And I promise I'll tell you all about it," she said, "but we need to go. Now."

He didn't protest, possibly still in shock at seeing her slim hand on his battle-scarred duster. Not waiting for a response she shifted her grip to a more secure hold around his wrist and started dragging him away as quickly as she could without flat-out running.

They were passing the dorms by the time Spike roused enough to ask, "We going to see the Slayer now?" He didn't seem as unhappy or unsettled by that possibility as she would have thought, but, then, he'd come to Buffy after the chip, hadn't he? And there was a thought to ponder some other time. Repressed feelings for the slayer aside whatever had made Spike think he could trust Buffy with his unlife? Was it just the truce?

"Uh, not exactly?" Bad, bad idea. Weird trust thingy and the truce aside, the Buffy of now hated Spike. Without the chip there was no reason for her to spare him. And just off their battle over the Gem of Amara Dawn couldn't really blame her; she was a little scared of this Spike herself.

She also had no idea where to go, she realized as they left campus. She had been heading toward home, but it wasn't exactly _home_ right now, was it? She stopped abruptly, nearly causing Spike to stumble beside her. Hurray for vamp reflexes. Tumbling him to the ground (_again_) wasn't likely to get her in his good books – if he had any. She turned to him with the little hair flounce and wide-eyed stare he had once (would someday? whatever) find heart-melting in a 'you're-like-a-kid-sister-to-me' way.

She worried her lower lip a moment. "So . . . you know of any place we can go to talk – in private?"

Spike leered at her and she flushed. Right, not a kid sister to this Spike. Also, not a kid at all anymore. And this Spike had never known her as one.

"Not like that, you perv!" She smacked his shoulder lightly and he looked at her in shock once more. Whoops. She really needed to stop being so familiar with him.

Fortunately he seemed inclined to let it go –for now– his curiosity winning out over all else.

"Yeah. Think I know a place we can go."

Their positions reversed, his hand now holding her arm as he led her into Sunnydale proper, and Dawn indulged in a moment of relief.

Step one of her plan was a success. Now she just had to figure out what to tell Spike he was saving the world from, how to get Buffy not to kill him, how to get him not to kill anyone, how to get the two of them to work together, and, oh yeah, how to convince them they were totally soul mates despite Spike not yet (or possibly ever in this timeline) having a soul. Piece of cake.

Not!

_London, October 2004_

Dawn flipped the physics book closed and shoved it across the bed where it toppled over the edge onto the floor and joined the stack of four or five other physics books already sitting there. This was getting her nowhere.

Or maybe not, she thought as she flipped open the next book and scanned the index. This one looked promising.

Unfortunately, there was a knock at her door before she could investigate her new found lead and she dropped her pencil into the book before closing it to save her place. She could almost see Giles wince at how it would damage the spine, but, if all went according to plan (the plan she hadn't finished yet and never would if people kept interrupting her research) it wasn't going to matter.

The door cracked open and a few locks of red hair swayed in the opening.

"Dawnie? Are you okay? I brought you some supper."

Six months in London and Willow was already using British words like "supper" instead of "dinner". Overachiever. Dawn couldn't even remember to ask for jam instead of jelly on her toast. She wrinkled her nose as she remembered the cube a clear gelatin the maid had brought her the first time she'd asked. And why did the Council of Watchers have serving staff anyway? Oh well, lucky they escaped the First's kill-all-Watchers campaign and not Travers. That guy was a bastard. And kinda creepy.

She still hadn't replied and Willow nudged the door open a little wider. "I thought you might not be up for eating in the main hall yet." A look of gentle sympathy was plastered on the witch's face as she approached the bed.

Okay, maybe that description wasn't entirely fair. Plastered implied insincerity and Willow's sympathy was certainly sincere. Also shared, at least in part. So maybe it was more empathy than sympathy? Though Willow seemed to have mostly moved on with her life now, even if it had only been two weeks since her best friend's death. Maybe because she'd already been through it once before?

At least she wasn't going to bring Buffy back this time. Good thing too – if Dawn didn't kill her for it Buffy almost certainly would.

"Do you want to . . . talk, maybe?" Willow asked hesitantly.

Dawn shook her head.

"Oh."

Willow looked disappointed, but Dawn really didn't have time for this right now. She knew from experience that if she kept quiet Willow would eventually leave the plate and go, which she did a moment later.

"Well, I'll just . . . leave this then." Willow paused at the door. "We're all here for you, Dawnie. You know that, right?"

Dawn nodded, picking up the plate and pushing the food around with her fork. Tonight's offering was something that appeared to have once been beef topped with a mush of what might have been celery and carrots once upon a time, and potatoes that looked safe enough, but had probably been creamed with horseradish if the smell was anything to go by. Ugh. British food was so weird. What she wouldn't give for pizza or a burger.

"Well, good night." Willow shut the door quietly behind her and Dawn set her plate aside with a wrinkled nose and reached for her books again instead.

Fifteen days. It had been fifteen days since Buffy died. Which made it . . . roughly one hundred and forty eight days since Spike had died in Angel's stupid, pointless, showdown in Los Angeles.

The irony was not lost on her.

The purpose, however, was.

Stupid, it was all so stupid. What had Spike even been doing in L.A.? If he'd come back from the dead he should have come to see Buffy. He always came back to Buffy. And it wasn't like he and Angel were so close. They hated each other – had even before the both loving Buffy thing. So why had he gone down with Angel's sinking ship? Had he wanted to die again, like Buffy had when she'd been resurrected? He'd died saving the world, she supposed that might have been enough to get him into heaven, vampire or not. In fact, it should have been enough. Better have been enough, she thought threateningly toward the PTB. But the Spike she'd known so well – he'd never have been happy anyplace where Buffy wasn't. Had being dead –like, _dead_ dead– changed that?

And Buffy . . . she'd died on a routine patrol, facing off against a Polgara, of all demons, in a fight she probably should have won. Would have won a month before. But she hadn't.

It wasn't like Buffy had been trying to die, Dawn thought, but she hadn't been trying to live either. The double blow of losing Spike a second time and the knowledge that he hadn't wanted her to know he was back was too much. She'd given up. Dawn was surprised she'd hung on as long as she had. She remembered what Spike had been like three months after Buffy's first death. If it hadn't been for his promise to take care of Dawn he'd have dusted. But Dawn didn't need taking care of anymore. She was eighteen, starting her first year of college. So, yeah, she could see how Buffy could stop trying.

The others all walked on eggshells around her – Dawn, that was, not Buffy. She'd lost her best friend (even if they hadn't been speaking) and her sister in the space of a few short months. Everyone looked at her as though they expected an outburst at any moment. As if she should be so sad or mad she would eventually give in and implode. But Dawn wasn't either. Well, maybe she was a little mad. She hated the fact that Buffy and Spike had died alone and miserable. Hated that Giles, her mentor, had a hand in keeping them apart. Hadn't he seen how unhappy Buffy was without her soulmate? And Buffy had been unhappy, even before she'd discovered that Spike had come back and died again all without her ever knowing. And still Giles (that bastard) hadn't bothered to tell her about Angel's last minute call for help – hadn't told her about Spike. So, yeah, she was mad.

But Dawn wasn't just mad. She was determined.

It was wrong. It was a tragedy. A travesty even.

And she was going to fix it. She wasn't going to bring them back; she'd learned the hard way that resurrections never ended well. She was going to do better.

It was her Physics 101 class that had given her the idea. Well, that combined with those . . . other courses she'd been taking from the local coven. They were teaching her to use her residual key-ness. She hadn't even known she had residual key-ness until this sweet little dark-haired witch had questioned her about the strange power in her aura one day at lunch. Apparently having once been the key left her with all sorts of nifty powers. Not the least of which was— well, sufficed to say that, for the first time _ever_, being the Key (or, you know, the used-up-no-longer Key) might actually be useful.

Because Dawn knew what the problem really was and she knew how to fix it.

Buffy and Spike had died apart from one another, without even hope. It was stupid. All the pain and misery. And why? Because he was a vampire and she was a slayer and Buffy couldn't see past that, even after the soul. And when she finally had it was too late, because the soul had convinced Spike that she'd been right all along.

Her sister's attitude was the root of the problem. Buffy could never bring herself to admit her feelings for Spike, because she refused to believe his feelings were real. And why was that (aside from that garbage Angel and the Council had fed her about souls and love)? Because of the chip. Buffy always attributed his changes to the chip instead of him and so she didn't believe he was genuine, didn't trust him, until it was too late. By then he'd been too broken to respond.

The things that came after –Buffy's death on the tower, her resurrection, the First, so much badness– they were all a result of Buffy's lack of trust in Spike.

So . . . the chip. That was where it all went wrong.

And Dawn was going to make it so it had never happened.

_Sunnydale, November 1999_

So much for her plan, Dawn thought. Too bad she hadn't gotten past the initial "Dawn goes back in time and stops Spike from getting chipped" part. Spike was staring at her slack-jawed from where he was leaning against a sarcophagus. His pose had started out indolent, but suave had left the building . . . err . . . crypt a few sentences into her somewhat cumbersome and confusing explanation. Actually, it hadn't so much been an explanation (because, yeah, so much she couldn't or wouldn't tell him) as a list of things she needed him to do. And not do. And was it wrong that all she could think about right now was that it was almost funny how he'd taken her to the very crypt he had called home for so long in her past?

Fortunately (or not so fortunately) Spike recovered before she could decide.

"So." He straightened to hitch one hip up onto the sarcophagus, no doubt in an effort to look cool and collected. She had to admit he was good at bluffing. He didn't even sound like his mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, though she knew him well enough to know that it must be. "Basically you're telling me I have to lie low, avoid getting killed by the soldiers, avoid _killing_ the soldiers or any of the general populace, _not_ kill the Slayer, not let the Slayer kill me– and, mind you, I can't leave town which would be the most likely, not to mention easiest, way to accomplish all this– while I wait for the right moment to save the world from a danger you can't tell me about. And you can't tell me why."

Dawn twisted her fingers together nervously. "Uh, yeah, that about sums it up." God, he was never going to go along with this. She should have come up with a better story before flinging herself backwards in time. Hell, she should have come up with any story at all.

"And I want to do all this why?"

"Because it's important to the future. Your future too. Food supply, right?"

"Right, but I don't see where me lurking about this miserable hell hole is so important. Way I see it I can come back when I'm needed. _If_ I'm needed."

"No!" Dawn clapped a hand over her mouth, chagrinned at her uncontrolled outburst. The last thing they needed was a curious soldier coming to check out the noisiest crypt in the graveyard. "I mean, you can't do that." If he left she'd never get him and Buffy together.

He cast her a skeptical glance.

She grimaced. "Look, there are things I can't tell you, I just can't." Because they'd send him screaming as fast and far from Sunnydale as he could get. "But, well, not to be insensitive or anything, but . . . it's not as though you have anywhere else to go, right? Drusilla dumped you, didn't she?"

He growled, but otherwise restrained himself from reacting to her comment. "Whole world of places to go that are neither here nor with Dru," he said tightly.

Well, no time like the present to start working on his denial, right? It was one of her goals, after all. She'd just be . . . subtle. Yeah, she could totally do subtle. "But you chose to come back here. Why?"

He shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "Was gonna take out the Slayer. Get some of my own back."

"Were you?" she questioned softly.

He shifted, uncomfortable, maybe? "Well, yeah, Slayer of Slayers. 'S sort of what I do."

He wasn't running yet, so she decided to push it, just a little more. "But you haven't killed Buffy yet. And I know she's good now, but she was still basically a newbie where you first met, right?"

"Was distracted," he muttered. "And how do you know all this anyway?"

She smiled. "Because I'm your friend."

"So you've said. Still say I think I'd remember having made a human friend."

"You'd think, but this is the Hellmouth, you know?"

"Right."

Dawn sighed. "I'm telling you the truth, Spike. I can tell you things if you want, things you've told me that I couldn't know any other way, but in the end that probably isn't going to mean more than anything else I've said. You're just going to have to trust me."

"Vampire here, pet, not real big on trust – from either side."

"Well, I'm not a vampire. And I'm your friend. You can trust me."

Spike snorted. "Back to that are we? Alright then, since I can trust you, you want to tell me why my _friend_, who I can't remember, smells like the Slayer?"

Crap, she'd forgotten about that. That she smelled like Buffy and that he'd know it. That must have been why he was sniffing her back in the woods. Scrambling for an answer she finally settled on the truth – or the simplest form of it anyway. He'd probably smell a lie anyway. "I'm her sister."

Spike shook his head. "Slayer doesn't have a sister. Fiery, spirited mum and a git of an absentee da', but no older sister. Did my research."

"Actually I'm—" she stopped, reconsidering her words. "You know what? Never mind."

His gaze narrowed in suspicion and he pushed off the sarcophagus to pace toward her. He jerked her chin up, not un-gently, and held her gaze fiercely. "Oh no, none of that. You're her what?"

She swallowed. "I'm her younger sister," she admitted reluctantly.

"Bloody Hell!" he swore violently, releasing her to pace the length of the crypt before coming back and taking her roughly by the shoulders. "Where are you from?" he demanded.

She tried not to flinch away. "Sunnydale, or, well L.A., I guess."

He shook her. "Here now, don't you get cute with me. You said I could trust you. Prove it. Where are you from?"

"The future." It was nearly a whisper.

"Bloody Hell!" he exploded again, releasing her – much to her relief. "Time travel? Bloody _time travel_!"

She frowned, straightening her shirt to keep from having to look at him. "I don't see why you're so upset," she muttered petulantly. This was her favorite shirt, and it wasn't like she'd brought a whole wardrobe back in time with her.

"'S the only thing worse than magic, time travel is. Unless you time traveled using magic." He looked at her expectantly and she shook her head. "Well that's something then. Now what the hell were you thinking, mucking about in time?"

"I told you from the start that this was about the future!" she defended. Only she hadn't come straight out and said it, had she? She wasn't sure why. Maybe somewhere deep inside she'd known this was the reaction she would get.

"Yeah, but I thought you were speaking in general terms, or had a vision or sumut. Not that you'd actually pulled a ruddy _Star Trek: the Voyage Home_!"

Of course he would think that, he'd spent more than a century with Drusilla, the crazy vamp with visions. She should have known that was what he'd think. And, she reluctantly admitted to herself, she probably had. "I'm sorry, okay, I am, but, Spike, the future, it's bad."

So bad. She thought of Xander, alone and always away on another dangerous quest. Of Willow, spending more and more time training with the coven and less and less time with her friends. Of Giles who did nothing but work. Of Tara and Anya and Angel and Buffy and Spike – all dead. Yeah, it was bad.

"Apocalypse bad?" he asked.

"Well . . . no, but no one is happy. You've got to help me change that."

He scoffed. "And by 'no one' I suppose you mean the scoobies, yeah?"

"Well, yeah—"

"Typical. There are six bloody billion people in the world, not to mention vamps and demons, and you lot want to remake it for what? Half a dozen people?" He crossed his arms sullenly. "And they call vamps selfish."

Dawn flushed. Well, when he put it that way . . . But that wasn't it. It really wasn't. Or, at least, that wasn't all of it. "It's not just us. A lot of bad things happened to a lot of people. People died who shouldn't have."

"People die every day."

She held his gaze, seriously. "Not like this, Spike. Please, it needs to be made right." It never should have happened. The resurrection, the First. All those potentials and the entire Watcher's Council, wiped out. Sunnydale a crater. The Scoobies had done that. And she needed to fix it.

"And you think I'm the bloke to help you with this." At least he was calmer now.

She took a deep breath. "You're the only one who can."

He studied her a long, silent, moment. "And I'll do this why? Out of the evilness of my heart, I suppose."

Now was not the time for speeches about truces and soccer and "Happy Meals on legs". If she wanted him to trust her she was going to have to tell him the truth about some things. And it wasn't as though she didn't intend to turn the future on its head anyway. She drew in a deep breath. "No, you'll do it to save your own life. You're one of those people who didn't have to die."

The silence was almost painful. As if all the words in the world had been stolen from the dank space and they'd taken the air with them. There wasn't so much as the rustle of his duster to break the sudden stillness.

"Well, then," he said at length.

And Dawn couldn't even tease him for the utter lameness of his reply, because, really, what else was there to say?

Chapter End Notes:

Ta da! Or not. So, not usually a huge fan of Dawn, but once I got writing she wouldn't go away. Also, from now on this story will have multiple POV changes per chapter. Chapter 2 picks up with alternating Spike/Dawn POVs, and soon Buffy will be added in as well. POV changes will be marked only by my lovely page break ~^~^~^~, but I try to let you in on who is "narrating" in the first sentence or two. Also, this is never going to venture into 1st person narrative, it will always be 3rd person limited. I tried to keep it to one scene/POV event per character, per chapter, but I'm sure there will be some chapters with multiple sections from a single character POV and/or less than all 3 characters' POVs. I become more consistent the further I go because, well, OCD, but I believe I recall some hitches in the format in the early chapters. Apologies if that bothers anyone.

Thanks for reading.

-reenas-as


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Somehow, and she wasn't at all sure how, Dawn managed to convince Spike to lay low – at least for the time being. It was too bad that pendant she'd managed to bespell only worked for her. It would have been great to be able to give it to Spike so he would be able to avoid the Initiative without hiding out. But the pendant was powered by her residual key energy and she didn't have the skill or power to keep it running without physical contact, not indefinitely. And she couldn't ask anyone for help – she didn't exist here, and anyone back in her time would have become suspicious. So instead she talked Spike into using the crypt as his hide-away, pointing out the hole to the lower level. The lower level itself wasn't much more than a cave full of rubble. Probably the result of an earthquake somewhere along the way. She'd never realized how much work he'd had to do to make this place livable, but she was sure he could do it again. She promised to bring him by some things to make the place more homey, or at least more habitable. He waved off her concerns, sprawled out over the lid of one of the sarcophagi in the crypt proper, but she knew him. He liked his creature comforts, Spike did. She'd have to find him some sheets or something at the very least. And a pillow.

Fortunately, she'd remembered to sort through her cash before her little trip back through time. She'd made sure all the bills were marked prior to 1999. The last thing she needed was to get arrested for passing "counterfeit" cash. She had enough for a few nights in a motel, cheap meals, and a few other odds and ends. She could buy him some bargain bedding. Or find that cave he used to share with Harmony and steal back his stuff. Except she didn't have a clue where that was, or where Harmony might be lurking, and she couldn't let Spike go get it. He was in hiding.

She checked herself into the Sunnydale Motor Inn. It was run-down, nearly squalid, probably teeming with vamps and other, less savory, characters. But it was cheap and they didn't ask for ID. Sitting in the middle of the bed munching on the _Lunchables_ she'd bought at the gas station down the street, she considered her next step on the road to saving them all. Her biggest problem at this point was that she still hadn't decided whether or not to make contact with her sister. Obviously if she wanted to change things she would need to do something on the Buffy front. Yes, Spike being chipless made him a bit of a project: she had to convince him to willingly make the concessions the chip had forced on him in the original timeline. But she knew Spike. There was a man inside him, a good one too. Okay, so he loved violence, a good brawl, but Angelus had forced him to become the monster he was. And, really, thinking back, aside from trying to kill Buffy and her friends (and most of the time he'd actually left her friends out of it) he'd never really done anything blatantly evil. Aside from the eating people thing, but, well, he had to live and that was how vamps did it. Speaking of which, she was going to have to sort that out with him sooner rather than later. If he was killing people Buffy would never accept him, _should_ never accept him. She couldn't tell him that though. It'd have to be part of the "laying low".

But, anyway, as much work as Spike was going to be she knew he was already on the right road. He already trusted Buffy to some extent, and he loved her, even if he didn't know it yet. Buffy, on the other hand, well, she was going to be difficult. She'd barely tolerated Spike with the chip, and mostly because of some twisted sense of warrior's honor. How was Dawn going to get her to accept a Spike whose only leash was the word of a girl they neither one knew?

She couldn't hide Spike forever. It would be a little hard to convince Buffy that Spike was her perfect match if Buffy never saw him. And getting them together was the most important part.

It was a shame Buffy wouldn't have any memories of her for another year. This would be so much easier if she could come out and tell them who she was. But she couldn't. The Scoobies would never believe her, especially if she was preaching friendship with Spike. She could try to befriend them in disguise, she supposed, but that was iffy at best and she'd hate to slip up and mess anything up for her other self when the monks finally got around to working their mojo.

Maybe she could send Buffy notes? It seemed a little lame, even to her, but what other option did she have? They'd be skeptical, even suspicious, at first, but once she'd been proven right enough times they'd have no choice but to listen.

Unfortunately, she was already too late to do anything about Oz. Even if she could get a note to them before the whole thing with Veruca went down tomorrow night, they'd never believe it. She felt guilty, but at the same time relieved. That truth saved her the dilemma of whether she should interfere or not. She liked Oz, she did, but she also liked Tara. Tara and Willow. Together. And they needed Tara. Maybe Dawn could have saved Oz from this incident and kept Willow's future with Tara if she'd taken the time to factor it into her plans, but it was too late now. And, really, what right did she have to change every little thing in the past at her whim? No, it was probably for the best she'd been too preoccupied with Spike to do anything.

And speaking of Spike: with the military still sniffing around for werewolves she should probably go make sure he was laying low as promised. Twenty four hours was a long time for a hyper-active vampire to be left alone and unsupervised.

It was barely dusk, but he was waiting for her when she arrived, pacing the crypt restlessly with a cigarette clenched between his teeth and a dozen or so spent butts littering the floor.

"'Bout time," he practically snarled when she pushed the door open cautiously. "You know how boring it is cooped up in a stone box with nothin' to do but smoke? Need more fags, by the way." He looked up at her expectantly.

"Okay. Why are you telling me this?"

He rolled his eyes. "Won't let me go out, will you? You'll have to bring me some. Could use some Jack too if I'm to be stuck here long."

"I can't buy cigarettes and booze," she protested. "I don't have legal I.D. And, besides, I'm barely eighteen."

"This is the Hellmouth, pet, I.D. isn't going to be a problem. Think I got I.D.?"

Oh. Right. She'd never thought about him actually buying cigarettes and alcohol, though she knew he had. He had to spend Giles' money on something.

"I'll bring you some tomorrow," she promised. And blood, from the butcher's, but she wasn't going to tell him that. That was an argument she wanted to put off for at least a little longer – preferably until she had blood in hand.

He seemed a little more relaxed now that she was here. Darn ADD vampires. She was going to have to find something for him to do. Maybe she could suggest he start clearing the downstairs? He already knew she was from the future; it couldn't hurt to tell him how nice he'd managed to make the place the first time around.

When she emerged from her musings he was staring at her speculatively. She had to resist the urge to pat herself down looking for something out of place.

"What?" she asked, slightly defensive.

"You ever gonna tell me how you did it?"

Her brow furrowed as she finally stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her. "Did what?"

"Travelled through the bloody looking glass, that's what."

Dawn shrugged. "I'm the key."

He lounged back onto the sarcophagus. "Key to what?"

Right. Somehow she'd forgotten that this Spike had no idea what that meant. She didn't suppose it could hurt to tell him. After all, she wasn't the key anymore, and wouldn't be. And it wasn't like Spike aspired to end the world, even if she couldn't convince him to change teams in the next year, which she was sure she could, so he wasn't likely to go after her younger self once she came around.

"To dimensions. And," she looked around, "apparently also time. Though I guess that's a dimension too, right? Science has never really been my thing." It had taken her some time to realize that the same principle (the Key-powered dimension-hopping the Devon coven had been working on with her) could be applied to time. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner – especially with hanging out with Andrew all the time. Time was just another dimension, right? So why shouldn't she be able to travel through it?

Seeing that she was loosing him she hurried on. "Anyway, apparently I used to be a mystic ball of energy called the Key that opened doorways between dimensions, and even though some stuff happened that made me not the Key anymore it turns out I can still send _me_ through dimensions, just not anyone else. And since time is actually just a dimension I thought maybe I could come back and fix things before they went wrong. I tried. It worked. Here I am."

He arched a brow at her. "An' jus' what do you plan to be fixing? Aside from keeping me getting offed by the soldiers we still need to have a discussion about."

"They weren't going to off you, Spike. They were going to capture you and put a chip in your head."

"What's the government have to do with _Lays_."

"Not a potato chip, stupid." It was probably not wise to call an untamed master vampire stupid, but she kept forgetting herself, and fortunately he seemed too busy trying to piece everything together to notice her slip up. "A computer chip. It made it so you couldn't feed on or hurt humans."

"Behavior modification, huh?" he mused. "Didn't know technology was that far along yet."

Dawn winced. "Well, it didn't make you incapable of hurting humans so much as it, uh, zapped you if you even thought about it."

"Internal shock collar, eh? 'S jus' cruel, that. Better a quick dusting."

Dawn had to agree with that, on principle at least. Obviously she didn't wish they'd staked Spike instead of chipped him.

"Well, thanks are in order, I suppose," Spike drawled. "Though I'm still a little shaky on why you did it. Seems to me all those things you were hemmin' and hawin' about last night would be just that much easier with that convenient piece of hardware shoved up my noggin."

"The chip was wrong," Dawn stated flatly. "And you don't need it. I know you; you can control the demon without it."

They eyebrow winged up again. The scarred one. The one that should be a reminder of why she shouldn't trust him. She'd never thought about it that way before – as a warning.

"That's quite a vote of confidence, that. What makes you think I want to?"

She pushed away the little flicker of doubt and met his gaze unflinchingly. "For all the reasons we talked about. And because you keep your word."

"Do I?" He tilted his head, studying her. "Don't recall giving my word not to eat."

Darn. Looked as though "as long as possible" wasn't going to be nearly as long as she'd like.

"You're going to though," she said with a confidence she didn't really feel. The threat of Buffy staking him was only going to hold him off so long, and it certainly didn't give him reason to promise her anything, not even with the world and his own future at stake. Spike didn't always stick to his plans, but he wasn't the sort to give in without a fight. It surprised her a bit when instead of arguing he just arched a brow.

"An' just what am I supposed to eat then, if I'm swearin' off the tap? Gonna be an issue soon. Been more that a day since you left me here to hide like a coward."

"Not a coward," she protested, "and not hiding. It's just a . . . strategic retreat. And it's not just you. I'm laying low too."

"An' why's that?"

"Well, no one knows me. Technically I don't exist yet. Some monks made me— well, they're going to make me, in about a year, and then stick memories in everyone's head so that they think Buffy's had a sister all along. If anyone sees me now they're going to wonder when a mini-me shows up in eleven months."

"Makes sense, I suppose."

"Yes. And so does you not killing. You can't keep a low profile if you're sneaking out to grab a bite. Buffy's not stupid and she knows how to do her job. If you start killing she's going to come looking for you, and since you can't leave," she gave him a pointed look and he nodded reluctantly, "she'll eventually find you. And then she'll dust you and bad things will happen."

Spike pursed his lips as he considered this. "Alright, let's say for the moment that I believe you about all this – not the time nonsense, believe you're from the future," he assured her as she opened her mouth to protest. "But this thing about the future of the world depending on my playing nice with the Slayer. Let's say I'm on board. I've still got to eat. Catch and release?"

Dawn considered this a moment, trying to push aside her own moral hang-ups and the general squickiness of the suggestion. It didn't have to hurt, she knew that, the women he snacked from wouldn't complain. She looked him over. Heck, they'd probably beg for it. But . . . she shook her head.

"You know Buffy would stake you in a heartbeat. Not to mention the army."

He scowled. "Well I'm not buyin' it from Willie's," he grumbled. "Prices are outrageous and he cuts it with orangutan."

Dawn worried her lower lip and his eyes zeroed in on the motion for a moment before he dragged them back up to her eyes. Darn it, she had to stop forgetting that to him she was just another pretty face right now. Though maybe this once it would work in her favor. "I was thinking the butcher's," she proposed, a little nervous.

"Pig's blood?" His face screwed up in disgust. "Bloody well will not. Tastes like sewage."

She crossed her arms. "Well, what then?" she challenged.

"Hospital. Nick the bagged stuff that's donated."

"People need that," she protested.

"Yeah, an' I'm one of them."

His jaw was set stubbornly and she realized his pose now mirrored her own. They glared at one another for long, silent, moments. In the end Dawn caved first.

"Alright, but only the stuff that's nearly expired, okay? And anything else you need to supplement it with you buy from the butcher's."

He didn't look happy, but he conceded to the compromise. "Fine."

There was more silence as they both struggled to relax from their brief standoff. At length Spike slanted her a sideways glance.

"Shouldn't you be popping on home right about now? To your own time, I mean. Done what needed doing, yeah? Properly warned and collared and all." His scowl evidenced his continued displeasure, but it also assured her he intended to keep his word. He wouldn't be upset if he planned to blow her off the moment she left the crypt. Still, she had no intention of going back to the future now.

"What? No," she said. "You and Buffy would ruin everything."

He gave her a suspicious look and she quickly moved on.

"Besides, with any luck I don't have a future to go home to. I mean, not the same one. I was very careful – no alternate timelines, this is my timeline, only earlier."

"So, what? You just gonna live in parallel forever?"

"If I have to. As long as I stay away from other me –once she, I, exist– it shouldn't be a problem."

He rubbed at his temple wearily. "Oi. Think I've got a headache."

"You're telling me," she muttered, knowing he would still hear her.

There was so much to think about, so much she hadn't thought of when she'd hatched this crazy plan. Never mind how she was going to get Spike to behave, or Buffy to give him a chance, how was she going to live? Dawn hadn't really thought about it until Spike mentioned her buying him booze and smokes, but she literally didn't exist in this time. She couldn't live at the Sunnydale Motor Inn forever. Eventually she was going to run out of money and even in a town like Sunnydale she was sure she'd need some sort of identification or credentials to get a job – at least a human-friendly one.

Her train of thought was derailed as Spike took that moment to change the subject, "So, what am I supposed to call you then? Can't be calling you Summers if you're lying low."

And wasn't that the truth. The long-lost cousin routine only worked in movies and cheesy romances as far as she knew. "I suppose Dawn is out of the question, huh?" As if he ever called anyone by their given name.

Spike leveled her a flat look.

"Thought so." She sighed. "Well, you used to call me – or, will call me, I guess. Would have called me? Whatever. You call me Niblet. Or Bite Size. And occasionally Platlet."

He gave her a funny, almost disbelieving look.

"What?" she asked.

"You know those are all food related terms for me, yeah? That didn't ever bother you?"

"I guess I never thought about it." She shrugged. "Most parents give their kids food related nicknames, right?"

"Yeah, but children aren't humans' primary source of food."

She gave up. "Fine, if it bothers you, you also called me Bit."

He eyed her tall form and then tilted his head inquisitively.

"You said I was a bitty Buffy," she explained.

He pondered that and then nodded slowly. "Yeah, can see that. Bit it is then, even if you are as tall as I am."

"I wasn't when we met. Or, in our memories of meeting – it's all so complicated."

He snorted, lighting up a fag. "Got that right, Bit. More so now, I 'spect."

"Yeah," she agreed, sinking down beside him on the sarcophagus, barely noticing the way he shifted away slightly. It was complicated alright, and, if things went the way they always seemed to around any of the Scoobies, it was only going to get worse.

She hoped it was worth it.

Chapter End Notes:

I was mistaken, alternating POV begins next chapter. And there's back and forth quite a bit until I add Buffy in, and then it's mostly one section for each of the three, each chapter. Mostly. Also, the chapters get significantly longer as I go on. Like, at least double the length of this one. Possible because I'm telling the story from the POV of three characters, who knows. I didn't use to be so wordy. I can't decide if it's a good change, a bad one, or just change. Anyway, thanks for reading.

reenasas


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Notes:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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CH 3

Dawn spent the better part of the night trying to come up with a plan to fund, well, the rest of her existence, but everything she could think of was either too dangerous or very short term. She seriously should have looked at some old stock reports or something before she'd come back. Not that she'd have had the resources to take advantage of them. She was pretty sure a person still needed a valid social security number and legal identification to trade on the stock market.

Rats. She should have had a fake ID made. It probably wouldn't have helped with the big things, because she wouldn't have been able to alter any records in the past obviously. Plus she probably would have needed some help to get one, and that would have meant telling someone, which would have meant they might have tried to stop her and— yeah, okay, fake ID was a useless idea anyway. Still, fake ID might come in useful _now_ and she bet Spike knew where she could get one. Or at least knew someone who knew.

She made a mental note to ask, then changed her mind and sat up to scribble a real note on the pad of paper she'd managed to scrounge up (because the _Sunnydale Motor Inn_ was too cheap to provide one near the phone, too cheap to provide a phone either). She flopped back onto the mattress and then sneezed as a cloud of dust rose around her head.

Ugh. She needed to get out of here. She needed money. Would a fake ID get her a job? A job doing what? She remembered Buffy's stint at the _Double Meat Palace_. So not what she wanted out of her life. And it was going to be her life, whatever she managed to find, because even if she fixed everything she'd still be Dawn times two, which meant she'd never be able to be a legal and law abiding citizen of this new future.

She could so do with some handy monk magic right about now.

Sometime after three a.m. she must have finally succumbed to the need to sleep, because the next time she looked at the clock it was almost noon.

She sat up with a groan. Well, no progress on the surviving-in-1999-when-you-don't-exist-and-even-if-you-did-your-social-would-show-you-too-young-to-be-legally-employed front, but there were other things on her list. Like sheets for Spike and maybe some other things for the downstairs if she could manage them. She should ask him about the cave. If there was sewer access they might be able to take a field trip. Though he'd probably still want new sheets. And she should bring him blood too if she was going to see him. It had been at least two days now since he'd eaten. Did she have enough cash for cigarettes? He was going to get really jumpy (well, _more_ jumpy) without them.

She was just leaving _Big Lots_ with some cheap sheets -wondering if he might still prefer the ones he'd shared with Harmony because, if she recalled correctly, he was a little picky about his sheets- when a thought occurred to her.

Caves. Spike had lived with Harmony in the caves. And why was that? Aside from the fact that being sans Dru meant he didn't need anything nicer?

He'd been in the caves looking for the Gem of Amarra. Which was part of the _treasure_ of Amarra, or so the musty old Watcher books said. She remembered because she'd looked it up after Spike had told her about it. Part of their campaign to distract each other the summer Buffy was gone. She asked him about it at the time, but he shrugged and said he didn't remember where it was. It had been years, after all, and he'd not really cared much for money right then anyhow. The next time it might have mattered he'd been gone, and so had the treasure, sucked into the Hellmouth with the rest of Sunnydale.

But it wasn't gone now. And for this Spike it had only been a matter of weeks since he'd last visited the hoard. He could probably find it.

She made a quick detour toward the nearest minimart. Cigarettes and Jack and then blood. If her plan worked it wasn't as though she'd miss the cash. And she might need a bribe, especially since she hadn't managed to make it to the hospital and was only going to be bringing pigs' blood for him.

Spike liked mentholated, right?

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Spike awoke disoriented. For one thing, it was the middle of the bleeding afternoon and he was a _vampire_ damn it! Middle of his sleep cycle and with all the mess he'd recently been dragged into he'd only just managed to drift off a few hours before. For another, the thing which had woken him was the unceremonious bang of the crypt door hitting the wall, and for a moment he wasn't sure he wasn't being attacked, and even if he wasn't the open door was letting in a stray beam of sunlight that was just that much too close for comfort. And also he'd had a right discomforting dream.

"Spike?"

Spike sat up, rubbing at his wrists. It took him a moment to place the voice.

"Bit?" he asked groggily. Not under attack then, but still not entirely safe. "Mind shutting that? Bit flammable time of day for me."

"Oh! Sorry." She closed the door and then stood there a moment. Dimly he realized she was letting her eyes adjust to the lack of light. Needed some candles or something, especially if she was going to be hanging around.

Surprisingly, he didn't mind that thought too much. She was a sweet thing. Determined. He liked that. Plus, not bad to look at either, though not his type.

His type? Bugger. _Humans_ weren't ever supposed to be his type.

He sighed. Dru was right, going soft, he was.

She came a step closer. "Spike? Were you sleeping?"

He stared up at her wondering if he looked as incredulous as he felt. She claimed to know him, and he believed her –something so utterly ridiculous as a made-up girl traveling back in time to save him couldn't be anything but true– but sometimes she seemed so bloody clueless.

"Oh! Oh!" She glanced back toward the door. "Sorry. I forgot you wouldn't be— well, I just forgot you'd be asleep."

He didn't sleep in the day in her future? Whatever had happened to him there must have had him all buggered up.

He scrubbed a hand through his unruly curls, cursing them a moment before realizing she probably already knew about his hair's natural state, and then dropped it back to his lap, rubbing the skin of his wrist without thought.

"What do you need, Bit?" He assumed there was some reason to her visit.

"Oh. I, uh, I brought you blood. And, you know, the other stuff."

If she was so flustered catching him asleep he was glad he'd had his kit on – at least the important bits. Preferred to sleep in the altogether, but hadn't fancied having his bits hanging out on display, what with his lack of proper bedding and all.

"Other stuff?"

"Cigarettes. Jack Daniels."

Fags _and_ booze. Must be serious then.

"Still waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

He sighed. "What do you need?" he repeated slowly.

"Oh." She clasped her hands in front of her and turned on the puppy dog eyes, like a bleeding teenager. Though he supposed she probably was a teenager so that made sense. Still, he let himself relax a bit. Not serious then, probably, but something she thought he might not agree to. She might be right if this was yet another concession he had to make. "I wanted, well, it's actually more like needed—" She stopped, distracted, and peered down at his lap curiously. For a moment he had the mortifying thought that she was going to ask him to explain his morning wood. Though why he found that so unsettling he didn't know; not much for modesty, him. Gave that up along with his poncey soul. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Doing?" he echoed. And then he realized that she wasn't staring at his stiffy, but rather his hands. His left was still wrapped around his right wrist, rubbing gingerly. Quickly he stopped the involuntary motion. "Not _doing_ anything."

"You were rubbing your wrists," she said pointedly.

"Didn't realize."

"Okay, but why were you doing it? There has to be a reason, doesn't there? Did you get in a fight?"

She sounded genuinely panicked which quickly shut down the defensive feelings rising in his chest. She was probably afraid he'd been attacked in his sleep.

"No," he assured her. "Stayed right here as I promised and nothing, nasty or otherwise, has disturbed me. 'Cept you." Her shoulders relaxed at that, but she was still looking at him expectantly. "Musta tweaked it in my sleep maybe," he muttered. It was a lousy excuse as far as excuses went, but he was hardly gonna tell her that he'd dreamed he was chained to the Watcher's bathtub and woke up with his skin feelin' chafed.

He'd been having all sorts of odd dreams the last couple of days. Memories from days long gone, bits of the now, only not quite right, and some right near terrifying hints of things to come. The other evening he'd woken from a dream he couldn't quite remember with the oddest feeling that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. It was too dark and dank. There should be lights. Lots of them. Smooth walls and a glass door (was it glass? _Plexi_ maybe?) and white. Everything was supposed to be white. Only that didn't make any sense. He was a vampire – he didn't do light or white. Just the thought of such brightness made his eyes ache and his demon squirm. In the end he shook the discomfiting feeling off. He was in his crypt, just as he was supposed to be. Wasn't sure why his subconscious was so active recently, but he'd wager it was the result of a combination of his time-travelling companion and his too-vivid imagination. That or lack of fresh blood really was making the demon barmy.

And speaking of blood.

He nodded to the bag still clenched in her little fist. "Gonna pass that this way, pet?"

"Huh? Oh, sure."

He took the extended butcher's bag, grimacing a bit as he pulled out three Styrofoam containers of pig swill.

"I wasn't sure how much you'd need. I know it's been a couple days and pig isn't as powerful as human, or whatever."

"It'll do."

He vamped to drink, hoping the demon's hunger would mitigate the awful taste a bit. She didn't turn away, he noted, didn't flinch at the shift in his features or even when he took a long draught of his meal. Didn't stare at him like some sort of zoo exhibit either. She acted as though she was accustomed to this act and it made him wonder just how close they'd been in her future.

She was a surprising little thing, wasn't she?

He finished two of the three containers before he slowed down, sipping at the third as he studied the young woman hovering near the entrance of the crypt.

"You wanna have a seat?"

All he had was the sarcophagus he was sitting on and the one beside it, but she clearly was not the squeamish sort.

"No, I'm fine. I, uh, hey, Spike?"

"Yeah?" Right. Still hadn't told him what she wanted, had she?

"What happened to the Amara treasure?"

Amara treasure? Oh, right, the horde buried with his ring. The ring Angel and the Slayer had stolen from him. Git wasn't even gonna use it properly. Probably destroyed the damn thing. No good goin' on about it to the girl though.

He shrugged, draining the last of his blood with careful nonchalance. "Dunno. Still there, I suppose. Didn't much care at the time."

She did though, he could tell. Aside from the fact she'd asked, girl was practically bouncing on her toes now.

"Can you take me to it?"

He quirked a brow. "Why? Fancy a bit of looting, do you?"

"Not looting," she protested. "It's not like the guy who left it's coming back for it, right?"

She had a point there; still, he didn't see the Slayer and her lot scouring the underground for funding. Didn't seem like a white hat sort of thing, treasure hunting. Though he didn't see why not. Moral compass didn't exactly point north anymore though, so what did he know?

"S'pose not. But why the sudden interest?"

She plopped down across from him, meeting his gaze frankly. "I have to eat, Spike. I have to live somewhere. And you wanna eat, right? Well, for that I need cash."

"Thought you do-gooders believed in an honest day's wage?" There was the moral objection that had earlier escaped him. Had to earn one's own keep.

"And I'd love to earn one, but it's kinda hard when I don't technically exist."

"Ah, right, can see as that'd be a problem."

She looked at him expectantly, tapping one toe.

"Uh, yeah. Guess I could find it again."

She beamed at him, bouncing back up to her feet. "Great. We can split the profits."

"Split?"

She frowned down at him. "Well, yeah. You found it, it's only fair."

"Yeah, but what am I gonna do with all that dosh?" If he'd cared he'd have taken it in the first place. Though his lack of interest might have had something to do with that fact he was a bit preoccupied at the time. Still, wasn't like he needed the cash and she clearly did.

"You could always try buying things instead of taking them."

"Oi!" He stood then, putting them nearly nose to nose (tall slip of a thing, wasn't she? Even if he wasn't the most imposing figure in the modern day). She didn't back down. "Not allowed to kill and now you want me to stop nicking things? Oh no, tha's where I draw the bloody line. Still evil here."

She sighed, taking a step back. "Fine, but take the money anyway. Someday you might want it."

Well, if she was going to insist he wasn't going to argue. "Alright."

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Dawn smiled. "Great, so . . . take me there?"

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Thought I wasn't supposed to leave. Lyin' low an' all."

"You are. And you will. But we can make this trip without exposing you to the general public, can't we?"

"Oi!"

She rolled her eyes. Stupid touchy vampires. "What I mean is we can get to it without putting you in danger, right?"

The look of reproach on his face said her new phrasing wasn't much better, but he didn't protest further.

"Suppose so. Downstairs has sewer access I think. And from there we can get to the tunnels."

"Great, so let's go." She turned toward the jagged hole in the floor expectantly, surprised when he didn't immediately follow after

"Now?" he asked, tone incredulous.

"Sure. Not like we either one have anything better to do, right?"

He arched a brow, looking pointedly from the obscured window to his make-shift bed.

"Oh, right." She smothered a pang of guilt. She'd woken him up, hadn't she? It hadn't been her intention when she'd made her plans to come over. It was just that she'd forgotten that Spike wouldn't be on her sister's schedule like he had been those last few years she'd known him in her future, and would be sleeping at this time of day.

When _had_ he switched to a human sleep cycle? When he'd gotten the chip? It must have been then. Maybe because he'd been staying with Giles and then Xander. She wondered if he'd gone back to his old routine when he first moved into the crypt or if the habit had been so ingrained by then that he'd just stayed on day shift. It would explain his collection of singed blankets and thorough knowledge of the Sunnydale sewer system.

He sighed. "Right then. Toss me my shirt and we'll be off."

His shirt? She'd hardly noticed before, but he wasn't wearing one. Thank God he had his pants on when she came in. She vaguely remembered that Spike liked to sleep nude.

Her eyes darted to his bare chest without her permission. Wow, she remembered seeing him without a shirt before once or twice, but she hadn't ever noticed how chiseled he was. Like one of those Greek statues, only with veins. Not that she was ogling or anything, big brother figure here, but objectively he was smoking hot. If she hadn't gotten over her little crush years ago she'd be drooling about now.

She quickly handed him his shirt, watching as he pulled it over his head and made a cursory attempt to tame his wild curls. He had leaned over the sarcophagus and retrieved his battered boots before she realized she should say something.

"Wait, no."

He paused.

"We don't have to go now," she said, genuinely apologetic. "I forgot you'd be sleeping, and I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll remember from now on. You go back to sleep and I'll come back tonight."

"Up now," he told her, leaning over to pull on one boot and then the other. He righted himself and tromped past her to the hole that led to the downstairs.

"No, Spike, really. It can wait."

He stopped. "Where you staying?"

"Uh . . ." The question confused her. What did that have to do with him sleeping? "The Sunnydale Motor Inn. Why?"

"Right. We're goin' now." He knelt beside the hole and peered down into it. "Best let me go first, yeah? Make sure there aren't any nasties or creepy crawlies down there."

"Or big rocks," she added, following after him since he seemed so determined to do this now. "I'm not sure what it was like down there before you fixed it up."

His head dipped back up toward her for a moment, curious. "Fixed it up, did I?"

"Yeah. It was nice." She remembered her earlier thoughts about starting him on the project, but then another thought occurred to her. He was going to have money to burn now. "Hey, maybe you can get an apartment," she suggest brightly. "With all your new, useless 'dosh'."

He growled low at her.

"Sheesh." Drama vamp. "It was just a suggestion. You could fix this place up though, right? Microwave, refrigerator, television. Bet it'd be even better than last time, because last time you were furnishing it mostly with dump rejects."

"And what am I goin' to power them with?"

He'd dropped into the hole now and she crouched at the edge, peering down into the darkness.

"You're resourceful. You'll think of something."

"Did all that, did I? With nothing but trash yard rejects? 'M right impressive in this future of yours. Drop down here," he added without pause and she obediently slid off the edge, trusting him to catch her.

"You have no idea," she mumbled, responding to his comment about the future. She knew he'd heard her, vamp hearing and all, but he gave no indication, no doubt wisely choosing to ignore that which he didn't want to know. Spike could be smart like that.

"Keep behind me, Bit." The words were accompanied by his hand taking hers, maneuvering her behind his body. He didn't let go once she was there and they proceeded forward with slow, careful steps. They'd only made it a dozen yards or so when he stopped, nearly causing her to bump into him in the dark.

"What is it?" she asked. She rose up on her toes and leaned slightly as though to peer over his shoulder. Habit. In this pitch she couldn't see a thing.

"Gimme a mo'." His hand released hers and she heard the snick of his lighter. He must have had it in his jeans because he'd left his duster up in the crypt.

In the tiny light of the lighter flame Dawn still couldn't see much, but Spike evidently could because he swore softly.

"Bollocks."

"What is it?"

He sighed, clinking the lighter shut once more. His hand found hers again in the dark. "Not gettin' any further today. Not this way at any rate. 'S completely blocked."

"Completely?" She squinted uselessly into the dark, as if by sheer force of will she could make her eyes see, or the rocks move, because she hadn't realized how important it was to her to do this now until it wasn't a possibility anymore.

He must have heard the disappointment in her voice. "Could try from another access point, I suppose. But that would require me pokin' my head about topside."

He was already pulling her back the way they'd come and in another moment he gripped her waist to boost her up through the hole into the crypt. She scrabbled up over the edge onto the floor above.

"Because that would be subtle. Me and a flaming blanket running for the nearest sewer entrance," she said once she caught her breath.

He cleared the hole in a single leap and managed to look completely graceful while doing it. Stupid vampire strength. She was so jealous right now. He gave her a hand up and she sighed as she brushed the dust off her clothes.

"I guess I'll have to come back tonight after all. At least now you can have a nap."

He shook his head. "Better make it tomorrow night." He gave her a once over, more clinical than leering. "Not as though you're gonna be much help with that mess, right? I'll work at it tonight and we'll head out tomorrow."

Dawn was forced to concede his point, despite her disappointment. "I have things to do anyway and you should get some more sleep."

"Off to start writin' secret admirer notes then, are you?" he jibed.

She'd told him a little about her plan to gain the Scoobies' trust after their conversation about headaches and names and complications the day before. The look he threw her pretty much said he thought it was a stupid plan, and probably that she was stupid for thinking of it, and she wasn't sure she disagreed with him – but what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't talk to Buffy herself, she could hardly send Spike to do it (at least not right now, though hopefully someday she could), and she couldn't do _nothing_. Things had to start changing _now_, if only a little. Yes, Buffy had handled everything the PTB had thrown at them during her first year of college, but it'd be too late once Glory arrived. If Dawn didn't start building trust now, Buffy would never listen to her when it mattered. As it was she wasn't sure a mere twelve months were enough, but it was all she had.

Besides, she wasn't going to write a note right now anyway. As far as she could recall the most exciting thing scheduled between now and Thanksgiving was Spike, and she'd already circumvented that. What she wanted to do right now, while it was relatively quiet on the baddie front, was sort out her timeline of events so she would know when it _was_ time to send a note.

"They aren't secret admirer notes. I don't have a crush on her."

He shrugged. "Amounts to the same though, don't it? Wanna gain her trust before revealing who you are."

He had a point, apart from the fact that she didn't know if she ever intended to reveal who she was.

"I'll bring more blood tomorrow," she said instead of correcting his assumption. "From the hospital this time. Enough for a few days if I can, and a cooler with ice to keep it fresh. Okay?"

"Ta, luv."

"Well, goodnight then, I guess. See you tomorrow."

He merely nodded, already kicking off his boots and stripping off his shirt.

She was more careful leaving the crypt than she had been entering. She was so used to him spending the daylight hours downstairs before, or at least safely ensconced in his battered old chair, turned from the sun, she hadn't even thought about opening the door when she entered. Once outside she set a brisk pace. She had things to do. Like break into the blood bank. It was a good thing she'd spent so much time in the hospital the first time around, especially that one afternoon with Ben, she knew where the blood supplies were kept and how to get to them. If she was going to make the afternoon shift change she had to hurry.

She smothered the pang thinking of the hospital induced. She still hadn't decided what to do about her mom, but she had more than a year until it became an issue. Until then she would focus on what needed doing now. It was simpler that way.

And it was a sad state affairs when stealing blood for an ambiguously evil master vampire was the simple thing on the list.

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Chapter End Notes:

A/N: Almost missed my self imposed deadline. As promised, Spike thoughts, and a longer chapter. Buffy is coming soon-ish. She's got a cameo in Chapter 5, a bit more in Chapter 6, and starting in Ch. 7 she'll join the narration rotation. Just in case anyone missed her -P Also, I do believe Fanfiction has been running off with my dividing lines again, so I've tried a row of lowercase 'x's this time. Sorry for any confusion that last couple chapters.

Drop me a note if you have the time; thanks for reading.

reenasas


	5. Chapter 4

Ch 4

Spike paced the crypt with an uneven gait, raking his hands through his hair and keeping a sharp eye (and keen ear) on the door. Was dark already, he could feel it, but she wasn't here yet, and he wasn't supposed to go out. The demon gave a snarl, part frustration, part hunger. The little cooler of blood she'd brought with her the day before was long empty. When they'd parted ways last night, or rather, early this morning after spending most of the afternoon clearing rubble and all night hauling treasure, she'd promised to stop by with blood for him in the evening, but evening had given way to night and she still wasn't here.

Bad enough he was bagging it – chit had to starve him too?

Spike considered going back downstairs. He was intrigued by what she'd said about how he fixed it up her first time around, maybe he could take a look, get some ideas. Distract himself.

Except that currently the downstairs was filled with bits and bobs of treasure. Treasure that he had to find some way to liquidate into paper cash. Without leaving this crypt. He wondered how she imagined he'd be able to do that. They'd only discussed it briefly the day before. At first she'd wanted to do it herself, but he'd pointed out that they couldn't exactly walk it into the local Bank of America. There was only so much a slip of a thing like her could pawn without people getting suspicious, and he doubted she had any underworld connections. She'd reluctantly conceded his point. Which had led to her promise to come back tonight to discuss their options and, more importantly, bring him more blood.

His strides took up a more furious pace. The hell with 'lying low', he didn't need to be invisible. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and he was going out to get his own sodding blood. He didn't have any dosh, but he had all that lovely treasure, didn't he? There were a few less than conspicuous pieces of jewelry in there; he'd hawk one or two at the local pawn shop. They weren't likely to ask questions, not in Sunnydale.

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Dawn quickened her pace. Dang it, she didn't mean to be out so late. Aside from the fact that she didn't want to keep Spike waiting, it wasn't safe for a girl like her to be out on the streets after dark. Sure she had a few stakes on her, but she wasn't a slayer, there were only so many things she could do to an attacking vamp and most of them relied on the element of surprise. What would she do if a whole pack set on her?

Still, she'd promised Spike blood, and she knew he needed it more often living on mixed bagged instead of fresh human. A cooler could only keep blood fresh for so long and she was pretty sure he'd drunk the last of it when they got back last night.

And speaking of last night: they still had to figure out what to do with the treasure. There was no doubt it was worth a lot, though in all the excitement she'd forgotten to ask how much he thought they could get for it, but that didn't mean much until they managed to sell it off. Gold trinkets were pretty, but not as useful as cold, hard cash. Or, well, room temperature, soft, green cash?

When she'd arrived at the crypt the previous afternoon she was surprised to find Spike pouring over maps and sorting through gear. Her initial response was sheer, unadulterated panic, and it took everything she had to remain calm. Spike had been outside. He had to have been because there was no way all that stuff had been conveniently stashed in the six clear feet of space downstairs and she'd have noticed if it was lying around up top. Of course, when she asked where he'd gotten the stuff he just shrugged, unaffected as you please, and said he'd nicked them from the cave he used to share with Harmony. Nicked being a somewhat inaccurate term because it was his stuff to begin with, though he'd probably stolen it initially.

At first she had the completely irrelevant urge to ask if he'd grabbed some sheets while he was there since he hadn't been all too impressed with the ones she'd brought him. But that thought was quickly disregarded under her rising distress. She didn't say anything, but he must have heard her heart rate pick up because he turned to her with a searching frown.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," he said. "Used the sewers and the tunnels. No one saw me."

Far from calming her, this only served to panic her further. She was across the room and gripping his arm in seconds.

"You went in the tunnels without me? Why?"

"Because they're soddin' tunnels and we needed things. You told me to lie low. Tunnels are about as low as a bloke can get."

She shook her head. "The sewers are probably fine, but the tunnels – you have to be careful in the tunnels. The commandos use them."

Spike, it seemed, wasn't too concerned about commandos and eventually they had to agree to disagree if they were going to get anything done. He promised her he'd be careful and she promised not to freak out on him over every little thing, and then he showed her the maps and traced their route for them before they loaded up with gear and headed down. He'd managed to clear most of the rock between the crypt's lower level and the sewers that morning, but he assured her that they would need the gear when they got closer to their destination.

Aside from a near run-in with the Initiative, one they'd only avoided because Spike had pulled her between himself and the wall, shielding her from their infared sensors –which Spike had smugly taken as proof that he was fine on his own when it came to the soldiers– they reached the treasure without any trouble. They had needed the gear, as Spike had insisted, but all told it only took them a few hours to clear a path and lug a sizeable portion of treasure back to the crypt.

And, wow, was it a treasure. It hadn't looked like much in the beam of the industrial flashlight Spike had procured, but once he lit the torches it took her breath away.

Pretty didn't make it light though and by the time they'd filled the lower level of the crypt she was too tired to talk marketing. Spike, who'd spent most of his day before she even arrived hard at work, seemed to agree. Though he did quickly disabuse her of the notion that she was going to be able to sell the stash on her own. Which meant they definitely had to make plans.

The making of which she was late for. She'd promised him she would stop by that evening, but she overslept and now it was well past sunset. She quickened her pace once more. She'd better buy some extra because she was going to have a very agitated ADD vampire on her hands when she finally got to Restfield.

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Spike shifted his brown paper butcher's bag awkwardly from one arm to the other as he made his way through the empty alley back toward the crypt. There was something wrong about a vampire carrying his lunch in a sack. Unnatural it was. Shoulda at least gone to the hospital to nick the good stuff, but the Bit'd just brought him some the other night and it was unlikely Sunnydale Memorial had much in the way of near-expired stock. Too many damn transfusions in this town. Coulda taken the new stuff, he supposed, chit would never know, but seeing as he'd already broken one promise this evening . . .

He shrugged off the uncomfortable prickle at the base of his neck and the heavy weight that tried to settle somewhere between his long dead heart and his useless stomach, both of which felt suspiciously like tuggings of the conscience he was no longer supposed to have. Demon here. What did it matter to him if he'd lied to the girl? Hadn't even done it on purpose. Which was the really frustrating part. He shouldn't care if it was on purpose or not. But, then, he'd never been much for lying. Why lie when the truth could cut so much deeper? He had his own sort of honor, and all his years with Drusilla, and even Darla and Angelus, had never rid him of it.

Thoughts of his family had him pushing back another kind of pain. Dru wasn't coming back this time. He didn't know how he knew it, but at that moment the lingering worry became a complete certainty. Maybe because he finally realized she was right. Oh, not that nonsense about sunshine or the Slayer, but the other bit. He wasn't demon enough for the likes of his dark princess. Couldn't even lie to a little girl by accident without feeling guilty. Pathetic twat.

He quickened his pace as the alleyway gave way to actual city streets. Hopefully he could make it back to the crypt without incident. Promises aside, the Bit probably had a point about him lying low. At least until they ironed out the details of this future she wanted to reconstruct.

Unfortunately, luck was not in his favor tonight. He only made it about halfway to the next alleyway, where he knew there was sewer access back to the crypt, when a luggish bloke stumbled from a nearby building and right into him.

After days hiding out in a crypt the demon was eager to retaliate, but Spike kept a firm rein on his less civilized urges. He hadn't lived this long without some control and this sod wasn't worth it.

Behind him the clumsy steps slowed. "Whatch it, ya bleached freak," the boy (because they were all babes to him, even if the lout was probably in his mid-twenties) snarled in belligerence.

Spike grit his teeth against his aching fangs, a low growl rumbling from his chest almost without his knowledge, but he kept walking.

The steps stopped briefly and then resumed, but now they were coming closer rather than getting farther away. And then a large hand yanked on his arm – not that it managed to move him.

"Did you just growl at me, freak?"

Bloke was either drunk or stupid, and as Spike couldn't smell alcohol on him he was betting the latter. "You'll want to be removing that hand before I do it for you," he warned.

The boy snorted. "Yeah, right. Like to see you try."

In a single movement Spike had the boy's arm twisted behind his own back in a too-strong grip. "Do more than try, wanker."

The boy struggled, but size had little to do with strength, not when one was dealing with a demon, and Spike held him without trouble despite the git's greater height and girth.

"Anybody ever teach you to respect your elders?" the vampire growled.

"Elder?" An attempt to twist around, unsuccessful against Spike's cold, hard, grip. "You can't even be thirty you f—"

Spike shoved the boy roughly to the pavement. "No?" he interrupted. "Then how about to fear the devil?" He allowed the demon to rise to the surface, relishing the look of panic on the face of the figure sprawled across the ground. Yellow eyes focused with singular intensity and he licked his newly emerged fangs.

"Wh-what are you?"

These humans and their denial. It was almost amusing.

"What do you think?" he asked, baring his fangs and lunging forward a step.

The boy shrank back in fear and Spike's demon rumbled contentedly as the sweet smell reached his nostrils.

He let the boy scramble to his feet, anticipating a good chase, but the boy was stupider than he looked and he stayed. His fist swung out toward Spike and Spike threw back his head and laughed. It seemed that when faced with his instincts this one chose fight over flight. Almost had to respect that. Almost.

Spike took a swing of his own. The blow was far from full strength, it'd been days and he wanted to drag this out a bit, enjoy it, but it still drove the boy to his knees. Spike bounced back a step so that his opponent could stand and then took another swing. This time the boy didn't bother to rise, instead using his doubled over position to barrel into Spike's torso American football-tackle style.

Spike grappled with him, loving the rush. He toyed with the boy a few moments, letting him think he had a chance, and then shoved him to the ground once more. He followed him down to the asphalt, straddling his waist and securing his arms above his head with one hand before punching him in the face with the other.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" he scolded. "Supposed to apologize when you run into someone." He punctuated each word with a blow, too far gone to realize his would-be attacker was barely conscious.

He cocked back his fist for what might have been the finishing blow, but before he could deliver it a cry sounded from down the street.

"Spike, no!"

A figure flew at him, wrapping itself around his arm as though it had a hope of stopping him.

Only it worked. Or maybe it was the words that came next.

"Stop, Spike, please stop."

It was Dawn.

Reluctantly, near panting with glee and effort and aborted rage, he lowered his arm. He wanted to kill the berk. Hell, part of him still wanted to kill the girl. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Bit said a lot of things that made sense – too many things. He had to figure that someone upstairs was giving him a heads up and he'd be a fool not to listen.

Didn't stop the anger though, and it didn't make it any easier to turn away.

He pushed to his feet in a smooth motion, Dawn scrambling up beside him. He might have stayed there, catching his unnecessary breath, only the Bit did a frantic take of the area and hauled him off toward the alley that had been his original destination. If he'd been able to concentrate on anything other than calming the bloodlust he might have protested, but as it was he let her maneuver him into the empty darkness and back him against the wall.

"What were you thinking?" she snapped, an angry Valkyrie. "One mistake, Spike, just one, and you're dust. Or worse, the government's lab rat."

Still seething he did not answer her, struggling to calm the demon who'd just had his first taste of violence in more than a week. Didn't help that her fury made her blood rush just as fear would. He could hear it pumping away behind the fragile barrier of her skin.

He shook his head. Made a promise, hadn't he? And whether that made him soft or not he planned to keep it.

"And what happened to keeping a low profile, huh?" Dawn demanded. "Brawling on the streets in not a low profile!"

He snarled at her, pushing off the wall and pacing away, carefully putting distance between them. "Didn't go out lookin' for a fight now did I? Went to—" he stopped, looked around unhappily, anger sapped from him as he came upon an irritating revelation. "Bollocks. Left my blood." He kicked sullenly at a bit of rock on the pavement.

The girl was unaffected by his mercurial mood shift, but then, she knew him, didn't she? Probably accustomed to it. Took too much concentration to stay angry for long, even with the demon chomping at the bit.

"Wait – you're telling me you went out for blood?" She shook her head, heaving a sigh of clear exasperation. "But I told you I'd bring you some."

He frowned. "Was hungry. You were late."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't explain how you went out for blood and got into a fist fight. How does that happen?"

That brought a touch of the anger back. How did it happen? It happened because he was a soddin' _demon_, was what he wanted to say. Not that she ever remembered it. Treated him like her bleedin' puppy. But he wasn't. Demon through and through. And the demon was restless. Locked up all bloody night and day, except for that little runner to find the treasure, dependent on some little human chit to feed, drinkin' pigs blood and stretching out the bagged, old, human. Not quite two weeks and already he was goin' barmy.

And it didn't matter that he believed her, or that the things she said made sense, or that for once he seemed to have caught a break and the PTB were giving him a chance even if he was an evil undead thing. Demon didn't care about any of those things. Bloke had insulted him, talked down to him, took a swing at him even when Spike had given him the chance to run. Felt too much like being William again to walk away. Spike didn't believe in turning the other cheek. But that was exactly what he was going to have to do if he didn't want to spend the next few years in solitary confinement in that crypt.

Had to learn to play nice, didn't he? If he was ever gonna convince her to let him have free run of the town.

Bugger. He hadn't realized how hard this was gonna be. Damn it. Maybe she should have let them wire him up. Be a sight easier to control himself 'f he got a shock every time he even thought otherwise. But no. He didn't want that. He still had his pride. He wasn't a soddin' fledge, damn it, he could control himself. Done it before when circumstances called for it.

He didn't tell her all this, just shrugged. "Restless," he finally said, sullen once more. "Goin' barmy in that crypt with nothing to do. An' he was askin' for it." He shot her a glare. "Won't happen again."

She sighed again. "You keep saying that, but I'm not sure you mean it. First you leave to get the maps and stuff—"

"Oi! Didn't hear you complaining when we didn't get lost or have to turn around."

She ignored his interruption. "And then that thing with the soldiers in the tunnels, which I appreciate," she assured before he could interrupt once more. "But they're still dangerous. I really don't think you're taking this seriously enough."

Smelling the concern coming off her made it easier not to take offense at her words and he moved closer, attempting to reassure her. "Told you before: now I know they're coming it's not going to be a problem. Got vampire senses. Smell, sound, an' vision. An' we proved yesterday their little toys don't do them any good. Couldn't find either one of us with their little infared sensors once I had you between me and the wall. It'll be fine, Bit."

"I know. I know. And I know you can take care of yourself and everything, but it isn't just the soldiers – who, by the way, eventually do get around that infared problem. If Buffy even thinks you're in town you're dust. You get that, right?"

He grunted acknowledgement and she mercifully let it go. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her concern. Near about reveled in it. No one had ever cared for him before, not really, not like this girl did. And he was coming to realize that she really did. She'd been so worried about him when she found out he'd been in the tunnels on his own, and even her reaction now – it wasn't anger, it was fear.

She cared for him. Cared what happened to him. And not just for the sake of the world, though he didn't think she fancied him. Pure, unselfish caring then. It touched something in him and he wanted to dislike it, but he couldn't seem to find the will.

Bugger, he'd gone all soft over the silly little chit. Couldn't seem to help himself. And it wasn't like it'd been with Dru. He didn't love the girl, didn't even want her. Just couldn't bear to hurt her

"Come on." Dawn took his hand to pull him from the alley and he let her. The street was empty, though how that wanker he'd put down managed to get away Spike didn't know or care. Maybe another vamp got him. Maybe a shop keep took him in. Maybe he just had a really thick skull and he'd actually regained consciousness. Regardless his absence gave Spike a chance to swing over and grab his blood.

He didn't mention the sewers and neither did Dawn as they headed back to the crypt. Streets were mostly empty anyway and he doubted she cared to go tromping through the muck.

"So, did you do it yet?" she asked as they walked.

"Do what?" Had he missed a turn? They hadn't introduced a new topic of conversation, had they?

"Sell the stuff. How much did we get? Can I get an apartment now?" She was warming to her topic, getting excited, and now that he knew what she was on about he realized she was getting ahead of herself.

"What's this then? Read me the riot act for stepping out for a bite, but I'm alright to sell trinkets on street corners? Lying low, remember? Gonna be a bit of a logistics problem trying to hock the stash without leaving the crypt or letting on I'm in town. Have to give me a couple of days at least and that once I've figured out how the hell to do it. You do remember that bit about not walking into the local B of A, yeah? 'S why we need to talk."

"Oh, right."

She sounded like a kid who'd been told Christmas was cancelled, though it was obvious she was trying to be mature about it. He found himself reaching automatically for his inner coat pocket where the remaining dosh from the bits he'd pawned were stowed.

"Here." He pulled out the folded stack of twenties and handed her the whole wad. Not as though he needed it much, already had his take in a brown paper bag. "Did hock a few of the smaller, less conspicuous bits. Needed dosh for the butcher's," he told her by way of explanation.

It wasn't much, not enough to get an apartment, no questions asked, even in Sunnyhell, but it would be enough to get her a nicer room and maybe some new clothes. Hadn't escaped his notice she'd been in the same things every time he'd seen her. He'd wager she'd not thought to bring anything with her when she jumped back in time.

She squealed in excitement as she took the stack of twenties from him and then, to his shock, threw herself at him in an exuberant hug. He was even more shocked to realize that he liked it. And not in a sexual way. Felt . . . familiar, comforting. Which was silly because he'd never had a comforting hug with anyone – not since he was a boy. Given plenty, but never received any in return. Most vamps were more like to stomp a bloke when he was down than give comfort, his Dru included. Was one of the things Angelus had most ridiculed him for –that need to comfort and be comforted in return– even though it was the very thing which made him the perfect minder for Dru. Over the decades he'd sort of pushed the need for reciprocal care to some dark corner of himself and ignored it, but now he realized it had never truly gone.

To receive such a thing now, from someone who to him was a stranger – it shouldn't be possible.

Maybe it was because it seemed so natural to her? This wasn't the first time she'd touched him with such easy, uninhibited familiarity. Certainly went a long way toward convincing him they were friends at some point in the future, as she'd said. Took a lot of exposure for a human to get so comfortable with a master vamp, to wear down the instincts that screamed "predator". For the second time that night it hit him that this girl wasn't play acting. She knew him. Cared about him. And believed without a doubt that he (or some version of him) cared for her.

For some reason it was very important to him to keep her feeling that way.

"So, how much do you think we'll get for all of it? I mean, you got this," she shook the wad of cash in his face and he grabbed her hand, stuffing it down into her pocket. No good to be waving that sort of cash about. She continued as though she was used to being manhandled by a protective master vampire, and the way she told it maybe she was. "From just a few trinkets."

He released her with a one-shouldered shrug. "Imagine your great great grand kiddies will still be well set-up."

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Dawn felt almost giddy at his response and definitely a little lightheaded at the thought of all that money.

She was going to survive! Well, of course she was going to survive, she'd have found a way, but, she was actually going to live comfortably – more than comfortably. For a moment the guilt she'd so neatly been eluding caught up to her. Now she had real money in hand. Real money that wasn't really hers. It was too easy. There had to be something wrong with this.

A cold hand gently snagged her chin and she found Spike staring fiercely into her eyes. "'S not stealin'," he said gruffly. "Didn't belong to anybody living and it doesn't exist as far as the rightful authorities are concerned. 'S a fair find." He released her, shifting his bag of blood with an air of embarrassment. "Makes you feel any better you can donate some to a worthy cause."

Wow. A chipless, soulless, still-hating-Buffy, Spike volunteering to do some good? Who'd a thunk.

"You'd really let me?"

He shrugged again. "Plenty of dosh in all this. No skin off my nose what you do with your share."

They'd reached the crypt now and he held the door for her. She found herself contemplating ideas for the space as she entered. He could buy nice sheets now. Even a bed. Well, she'd have to buy them, but they could afford it now. And she knew Spike loved a plush bed.

She whirled, nearly knocking Spike's bag to the floor as she gripped his arm in excitement.

"Spike! I can get a hotel room. A real one." She pulled out the wad of twenties, leafing through it. Thank God, she wouldn't have to stay in the motel another night. "I can do it right now!"

He stopped her before she could head back out the door.

"Oi, still gotta work through our logistics problem or it's gonna be a short move."

She couldn't help it, she pouted.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Not sayin' you can't do it tonight, just saying you can't run off right this moment. Gotta have ourselves that pow-wow."

She had to concede his point. Stepping back into the crypt she sank down onto the nearest sarcophagus. "So what are we gonna do?"

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Spike was glad to see she'd managed to settle herself down. Had a right to be excited. Was a good bit of money and that was important to the living, he knew. But they had quite a bit to work out before it was a reality.

"Right." Spike sat on the other sarcophagus. "So, there's this bloke in town. Works for a law firm what caters mainly to demons. Reckon they could sell this whole lot, even the bits not originally from this dimension. They'll want a commission o' course, but I figure what's a few less pennies to all that, yeah? And, fortunately, most of their staff are human, so you should be safe enough going to them."

"Wait. Is this Wolfram and Hart?"

"You know 'em?"

Dawn made a face. "Know _of_ them. They're evil."

"Well, yeah, pet, so'm I. But you still came to me."

"That's only because— You know what, never mind. You're right."

She did that a lot; interrupted herself to keep from telling him something about his future self. Someday he might have to ask her about that, but for now he figured he'd sleep better not knowing what a terrific ponce he was destined to become. Drinking bagged blood, saving the world, palling around with the Slayer's kid sister. Actually that didn't sound much different to what he was doing now. But he didn't like it, so that was something. Still a demon, still evil. Not a white hat like that other him. Was a difference between a truce for his own benefit and looking for redemption.

"Spike? You in there?"

He jerked his attention back to his companion. "Course I am. What sort of question is that?"

"A good one, considering you completely spaced on me. I asked you what I needed to do."

"Oh, right. So, you're gonna have to go to Willie's – you know where that is?"

She nodded and he wondered how a girl of barely eighteen knew where the local demon bar was, even if she was the Slayer's kid sis.

"Well, you go there and you tell Willie you need to leave a message for H'renck."

"Spike, if I tell Willie you're in town Buffy's gonna hear about it."

"Which is why you're not gonna tell him. You're gonna give him this." He pulled out his nearly empty pack of cigs and tapped the fags out. "You got a pen?"

She handed him one and he scrawled a cryptic message across the empty carton. He didn't bother to sign his name. When he was finished he held it out to the girl who wrinkled her nose cutely.

"What? You can go into a demon bar all by your lonesome, but you can't touch my empty cig pack?"

"I can do it." She took the packet and shoved it in her pocket. "And then what do I do?"

"You leave. And make sure you take this little field trip in the daylight, yeah?"

"If I leave how will we know if he's gonna do it? How do I get him the stuff?"

He nodded toward her bulging pocket. "He'll come to me. It's all there."

She tore the packet out frantically and read the scrawled hand writing. She didn't comment on it, though she did throw him a knowing look, which meant she must have seen his actual handwriting (poncey Victorian script) at some point. Her shoulders relaxed as she realized the message wouldn't give him away to Willie or anyone else who might intercept it.

"Is this some sort of code?" she asked.

"Something like that. We go back, H'renck and I, he'll be here."

She frowned as she carefully replaced the wrap in her pocket. "I don't know if it's a good idea to let him know you're in town. And I especially don't think you should be telling anyone where you are."

"Can't be helped. And we need to talk about that."

"Talk about what?"

He raised a brow. Did she really not see an issue with her "keep Spike hidden from all of Sunnydale indefinitely" plan? It was completely impractical, for one thing, and it was going to drive him barmy – tonight had proven that. Never would have gone after that bloke if he hadn't been so stir crazy. Might still have wanted to, but he would have been able to restrain himself. Less often he was out the more trouble he'd have when he was. And then there was the reason he'd felt it necessary to go out at all. Couldn't wait her for her to tend him like a pet. What if something happened and she couldn't bring him blood for several days or more? Worse, what if something happened to her? He needed to be able to find her.

"Exactly how low are you expecting me to hide here, Bit? Can't stay in this crypt forever. I'm gonna need things. Blood, smokes, things to fix this place up. Unless you want to be my errand girl for the rest of however long I'm supposed to be hiding before I help save the ruddy world."

He wondered if she planned for him to do it –save the world– without ever letting on to Buffy that he'd been in town at all. No credit in that case. Part of him was relieved at the thought – Big Bad here, not a white hat. But some other part of him, maybe the braggart, wanted the Slayer to know if he was gonna save her pretty blond arse. But that aside, how was Buffy to be expected to let him help if he was sprung on her at the last moment?

"She's gonna have to know eventually, right? Otherwise she'll stake me before I can do my bit. 'Cause I'm guessing if I'm gonna help save the world the Slayer's going to be involved."

Dawn bit her lip, rubbed weary fingers in circles at her temples as though getting a headache. Ha! He was the one what should have a headache.

"Okay, yeah, I see your point, but . . . just a little longer? There's something I've gotta do tomorrow night first. If you can just stick it out another week or two that should be enough time."

"Notes." He didn't think much of her plan to involve herself in the Slayer's life, but he couldn't come up with anything better.

"Just give me the time, okay? I'll get the guy here, we'll see how that goes, and then you can probably start getting your own things if you stick mainly to the sewers."

It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Agreed, but we're going to talk after your week or two are up, you got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

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A/N: Sorry this is a whole week late. I promise to make it up to you. I'm thinking a bonus chapter on New Year's Day and then the regular chapter next weekend. How does that sound? Now that the Christmas craziness is over . . .

Thanks for reading,

reenas-as


	6. Chapter 5

CH 5

Dawn didn't get much sleep that night, reviewing her time line yet again. There wasn't much there. Mostly all the attempt had done was prove to her how little she knew about her sister's life at this time. At least about the parts that didn't pertain to Big Bads or Spike – who technically wasn't on active Big Bad status at this time. Buffy hadn't been big on personal sharing with her not-really-there-yet little sister, and most of what Dawn knew she'd gleaned from bits of overheard conversations or from what the others had shared with her the summer Buffy was gone.

Still, as near as Dawn could figure, tonight was the night Riley would first approach Buffy. She had to decide what, if anything, she was going to do about it. The first time around Spike's "escape" had interrupted them before Riley had gotten much further than a lame comment about cheese, but this time neither of them even knew the vamp was in town.

She could leave it alone, she supposed. Buffy and Riley would end up together a little sooner, but she didn't suppose that could hurt much. Still, somehow it seemed important to preserve the original timeline as much as she could, at least in the little things. She didn't know why, since she still fully intended to mangle the big things, but she'd learned to trust her instincts. Which meant that she would be keeping out of some things she'd rather change, and sometimes, as now, she'd have to fill in for what she'd already changed. It was more complicated than she'd like, and it probably meant she'd have to get physically involved from time to time, but it was also necessary.

First thing was first, though: if she was going to intervene directly she couldn't be herself while doing it.

She spent most of her afternoon and some of the pre-treasure-hocking advance Spike had given her, buying new clothes, some costume glasses, and a cut and color. Nothing too dramatic as far as color went, just a few shades darker and a bit of an auburn tint, but she got her hair cut in a pixie-esque bob that would hopefully make her as far from recognizable as possible once false memories and real ones began to mingle. Not that she intended to do anything memorable, but it never hurt to be cautious.

As she shopped (and sat) she worked on her plan. She reasoned that the relationship between Buffy and Riley wouldn't be the same without the stalls, the build-up, the anticipation. Definitely the mystery was part of what had drawn Riley to Buffy. Who knew? If the road was easy they might get bored and never end up together. And, timeline issues aside, Buffy needed to be with Riley. She needed to know that normal wasn't going to work for her. It was crucial to convincing her that Spike was her soulmate, with or without the actual soul.

Which meant Dawn would have to provide the necessary interruption – without drawing too much attention to herself.

She briefly considered playing the vamp victim, one more faceless co-ed in need of rescue, but she didn't know where to find a vamp (besides Spike) on short notice, plus, also kinda dangerous. And if she only pretended a vamp attack Buffy would be back inside with Riley in no time, if he didn't run out with her and spill the military secret weeks too soon. She next considered doing something to catch the attention of the commandos. Aside from Riley none of them had ever seen her. But again with the dangerous. In the end she decided that simpler was often better. The fact that a vampire got in the way of the budding romance last time didn't mean one had to this time.

She made a quick stop at Willie's to drop off Spike's message, doing her best to threaten the weasely proprietor without tipping him off as to who she was representing, before heading to the college campus. She'd never been to UC Sunnydale; she needed to figure out where this frat party was being held. Fortunately there was only one fraternity party going on that night and a helpful student was more than willing to tell Dawn where it was. She had just enough time to grab a quick bite at the campus coffee shop and familiarize herself with the campus directory (if anyone asked her any questions she wanted to be able to pass for a student), before heading to the party. She was a little worried about being early, but she had no idea when Buffy and Riley would arrive and she was more afraid to miss them.

She realized the moment she reaqched the frat house's block that she hadn't needed to worry about arriving early, or that anyone would ask her anything about campus. The place was a zoo.

Dawn hadn't attended any parties in her brief tenure at university. She didn't even recall there having been any, but she wasn't sure if that was because college life in England was different or if she'd just been too preoccupied with time traveling plans to notice what was going on around her. Her first thought upon entering Lowell house was that she hadn't missed much. It was definitely a Janice sort of scene, and she'd come to realize most Janice scenes were not Dawn scenes. Too bad she hadn't figured that out in Sunnydale; it would have saved both her and Buffy a lot of grief.

Her second thought was that military commandos posing as college frat boys were just as stupid as real college frat boys, but slightly stiffer. She could pick most of them out easily, even the ones she hadn't met before.

A passing frat boy (a real one, not one of the Lowell boys) gave her the nod and she smiled back, mostly because she didn't want to risk a scene. Maybe that was putting it a little dramatically. She smiled back because that was what girls who went to frat parties did and she didn't want to stand out in any way.

She paused at the doorway to the main room, looking for any sign of Buffy or anyone else she knew. She had no idea what time Buffy and Willow would arrive, but since Willow was understandably mopey about Oz's recent departure she imagined it would take Buffy some time to convince the redhead to leave their dorm room.

As she'd expected they weren't in attendance yet, though Riley was leaning against the wall keeping a half-nervous eye on the door. Obviously he was expecting someone, or hoping for someone, and it wasn't hard to guess who.

She gave him a wide berth (not that he would have noticed her – he had Buffy tunnel vision right now) as she headed over to the folding table against the far wall. Mostly snacks were on offering. Chips, pretzels, a bowl of assorted miniature candy bars, which proved at least one of these idiots understood something about women. Pretty standard junk food fare. Ah! And a bowl of punch in the center that looked promising.

With a satisfied nod Dawn moved to take up her own place of observation against a wall. Only she didn't need to watch the door, she only needed to watch Riley. Which, as it turned out, was a fairly boring occupation. He lit up briefly when Buffy entered the room (which was much sooner than she had expected), but almost immediately went back to worrying.

"Hey, don't I know you?"

'No, you don't." Dawn didn't even bother to look at the guy addressing her. It was the truth regardless, and Willow had just approached Riley. Huh, weird, she didn't remember ever hearing anything about them being friends before the whole Buffy/Riley couple thing. Though he was their Psych T.A. and Willow was crazy into school, so maybe they were talking shop?

"Really?" Her unwelcome companion obviously couldn't take a hint. And now she was forced to look at him because he'd stepped between her and her quarry. "Because I'm pretty sure I do. Aren't you in my world politics class?"

"I'm really not." Dawn leaned to see around him, almost cursing when she realized that Willow was now alone. She searched the room a tad frantically.

Crap. He was with Buffy already. And she looked very into it. Crap, crap, crap.

"Introductory lit?" the frat boy asked, stepping in her way again.

She must be spending way too much time with Spike because her first urge was to growl at the idiot.

"I don't attend here," she said, hoping to cut off further inquiry.

No such luck. "Maybe I've seen you around town then? The Espresso Pump?"

She leaned back the other way. Still there. She considered making a dash for the refreshment table, but that would attract too much attention. Darn it, why couldn't this guy just take a hint? She was going to miss her window.

Oh, but, no. Riley was leaving, and from the red creeping up his neck into his face he'd managed to blow it all on his own.

She began to relax, but then Willow was approaching him, gesturing at Buffy, and something clicked. Dawn always knew he had to have an accomplice. Riley was a mostly decent guy, but he seriously needed a Buffy-to-real-life comparison chart or something. A few minutes later Riley was approaching Buffy again and Dawn abruptly excused herself to mingle in their vicinity, grabbing a glass of most-likely-spiked punch on her way. That was alright with her, she didn't plan on drinking it.

She wandered closer, rolling her eyes at what little of their conversation she could overhear in the noisy frat house. God, they made each other into idiots. Was that what attraction did? It was a wonder anyone ever hooked up at all.

Still, Riley and Buffy seemed to be getting somewhere and Dawn adjusted her grip on her red _Solo_ cup. She was just about to implement plan shirtstain (yes, it lacked originality, but it was the best she could come up with on such short notice – there was no way Buffy would stay to flirt with a big old stain on her shirt) when there was a minor commotion in the entryway.

Xander was attempting to navigate through the crowd to reach Buffy.

Xander?

A sudden dread seized her. Oh no, had Spike gone out again? Was Xander bringing Buffy to stake him? She was preparing to do— well, she didn't know what exactly, but _something_ to distract them, but before she could Xander was hauling Buffy outside. Worried, she followed, pressed against the hedges to overhear them.

Xander had had a run in with Harmony. And she had complained about a strange vampire trying to crash in her cave. A vampire who claimed to need refuge from soldiers. Xander thought they should catch the vamp and interrogate him about the commandos.

Relieved, Dawn ducked back inside. Not Spike, then. Weird though, she didn't remember Spike mentioning another vampire escaping the same night he had. Might have slipped his mind with all the trying to bite Willow and getting a massive migraine and all. Or maybe it was fate. If so, fate had done Riley a serious favor, because his attempts at wooing her sister? Completely cringe-worthy. Maybe he'd write a script first next time.

As she expected, Riley was no longer in the frat house, nor were his friends. If they'd had a jail break that made sense. No matter which demon got out they would have to give chase.

She contemplated going after her sister. Walking through the campus with Xander in tow she wouldn't be using slayer speed, Dawn could probably catch up. But there really wasn't anything else for her to do here so it was an unnecessary risk.

On the other hand, she could go see Spike. It wouldn't hurt to keep him occupied just so there was no temptation to be out and about while the commandos were on a man-hunt, or demon hunt, as the case more accurately was.

That settled it then, definitely Restfield.

She was just clearing the dorm area when there was a commotion. Was that Buffy's dorm? She only had a vague monk-made memory of being dragged along to help Buffy settle in that first year, but she was pretty sure this was the right dorm. She remembered mom pointing out the planter by the door and saying the other dorms didn't have the same style. Dawn fought down the accompanying pang that was becoming so familiar – the one that reminded her that her mother was still alive in this time and nothing was stopping her from going to see her except her own silly rules. She had more important things to think about right now. Like why there was a commotion at Buffy's dorm. Spike was at Restfield and even if another vamp had escaped the Initiative labs it would have no reason to come here. Spike only had because he was looking for Buffy.

But those had definitely been commandos running through the doors.

The lights flickered out in the building and there was clearly something happening on the upper floors. A suspiciously Willow-sounding scream pierced the air and Dawn stepped toward the doors automatically, only to be forced back as a figure came flying out. To her surprise the figure winced and backed away, cowering.

"Don't hurt me," he whimpered.

"Hurt you?" Dawn echoed.

"The redhead." He shook his head. "In the hall. Bumped her. It hurt."

Yellow eyes peered up at her for just a moment, filled with fear and confusion, and it was enough for her to realize that this was the escaped vampire. It made some sense; the labs were under the university. Poor guy must have been running blind, terrified and looking for a place to hide, and somehow ended up here. Funny how things were turning out exactly as they had the first time, only minus Spike.

For a moment she had the unwelcome, almost terrifying, thought that maybe the past couldn't be changed. But then she remembered that if that were the case Spike would already be chipped and she'd be looking for a surgeon.

Still, a random vamp escaping the Initiative and running straight for Willow? That couldn't be coincidence, it had to be fate.

Well, maybe that wasn't a bad thing, actually. Buffy needed more exposure to the Initiative anyway to kick start the research – which this nighttime encounter did, as Dawn recalled.

She could hear feet tromping down the stairs and knew that if this was going anything like the last time the commandos would be exiting soon, asses firmly handed to them by an irate Slayer who thought her best friend was being attacked. The vamp was still cowering, trapped between her body and the door and she felt a sudden pang of sympathy. Clearly he was chipped. He couldn't hurt anyone and he didn't stand a chance against the Initiative.

Making a split second decision she grabbed his hand and ran straight for the nearest sewer access.

"Get inside and get as far from Sunnydale as you can, you got it? You're going to have to bag it, they put something in your head so you can't hurt humans, but if you can control yourself you'll be alright."

Dazed, the vamp only nodded. With a sigh Dawn dragged the manhole cover away and gave him a little push.

"Get going. They catch you and you'll wish you were dust."

Still confused (because a human helping a vamp? when she clearly knew he was a vamp? crazy that, but Dawn's life had always been crazy), but too afraid to remain, the vamp jumped down the manhole.

As an afterthought Dawn yelled down the hole after him. "You might try L.A. There's a vamp there, Angel, he has a soul. He'll know where you can get blood and he might be able to keep you out of trouble."

And then the commandos were pouring out of the dorm only a hundred yards away and Dawn shoved the manhole cover back in place before continuing at as casual a pace as she could manage.

She hoped the vamp made it and that Angel didn't dust first ask questions later. Not exactly like she could call and warn him. Though he'd taken Harmony in even without a chip, if she remembered correctly, so it might be alright.

And since when was she the Vampire Rescue Hotline? She seriously needed to stop being so impulsive.

Mindful that Initiative soldiers could be anywhere, Dawn continued to Restfield, only approaching Spike's crypt when she was certain she wasn't being followed or observed. She slipped inside quietly, closing the door behind her.

Spike was at the cooler, pouring _Jack Daniels_ into a glass of blood. His back was to her, but the stiffening of his shoulders told her he knew she was here. After a brief pause he continued with his task. He set the bottle down with deliberate care and swirled his glass a couple times before taking a deep swallow.

When he was done he finally acknowledged her, though he didn't yet turn around.

"Thought we'd been through this, Bit. Not a fledge, don't need a sitter. Can contr— What happened to your hair?" he cut himself off as he finally faced her.

She fingered the shortened locks. "I cut it, obviously. And colored it a little."

His face was contorted in something like displeasure and she remembered how upset he'd been when Buffy cut her hair a few months after her resurrection. At the time she thought it was a Buffy thing, but now she wondered if maybe part of it was just a Spike thing. He liked long hair – how very Victorian of him.

She smothered a grin. "You like?"

He shrugged, making a show of being sauntering over to the sarcophagus and sitting down. "You'd look good in a paper sack, Bit, but why'd you do it?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's my disguise." She pulled out her costume glasses. "See."

"Gonna need to keep a picture on hand just to recognize yourself," he said.

She wasn't sure if he was serious or mocking her, but the comment sparked a memory of something more important.

"Oh! Speaking of pictures – you know someplace I can get a fake ID?"

"Why? Only club in this pissant town doesn't card at the door."

"Yes, well, I'll probably need one to get a decent place. And I dropped off your trash with Willie, so your guy should drop by soon, right?"

He shook his head. "Thought at first it was the time travel bit had you all jumbled an' out of sorts, but you're always like this, aren't you?"

"Like what?"

He waved his arms about expressively. "All over the place. Lucky I have decades of practice or I'd never track."

Dawn stilled. "Are you comparing me to Drusilla?" She didn't know if he meant it as an insult or a compliment, but she did know this Spike was still very much in love with Dru, and that made this conversation dangerous ground.

"Only in that you flit from thought to thought like a bloody bird in the trees. You gonna sit down or what?"

Because the poster boy for undead ADD was _so_ much better at focusing on one topic at a time – obviously.

She sat down next to him and noticed that he tensed for a moment, but she didn't move. He needed to get used to this whole friends thing. Especially if she was going to get him in good with the Scoobies at some point.

"Happy?" she asked, making a point of settling in.

"Mm." Spike reached out and rubbed the end of a shortened lock of hair between his fingers. "Gonna miss those, I think. Looks nice enough though."

"Thank you."

As if he only just realized what he was doing he dropped her hair and braced his hands beside him on the stone.

"In answer to your question: yeah, know a bloke who can get you a phony ID. You come up with a name yet? I'm assumin' Dawn Summers isn't going to work."

"Sally Jackson."

"That was quick. Not someone you know, is it?"

Did she look that stupid? "No, I got it from a movie. Well, sort of. You've seen _The Nightmare Before Christmas, _right?" She'd made him watch it the summer Buffy had been gone, but she was pretty sure he'd seen it before that.

"Seen all Tim Burton's pictures. Twisted bloke. Gotta wonder with that one."

"You think Tim Burton's a vampire?"

He shrugged. "Not that I know of. But he's got too much darkness about him not to know something of it. Werewolf, maybe? Or there are demons what can do a solid glamor. Could be any one of them."

Okay, it was somewhat disturbing that Spike thought her favorite movie was made by a creature of the night. What did that say about her?

"Gonna need a recent photo too," Spike switched gears abruptly, returning to the matter at hand. "Only take a couple a days once I get it to him. Could have it about the same time our profits start rollin' in if you use my polaroid now."

"You have a polaroid? Why?"

He looked at her pointedly and smoothed a hand over his hair.

Oh, right.

"Best thing ever happened for vamps," he mused. "Cameras without mirrors. Nearly forgot what I looked like in those couple a decades without. Hell of a time doin' my hair too. Dru liked to pull."

"Pull? Pull what? His hair wasn't all that long.

"Never you mind." He stood swiftly and was almost immediately across the room at the pile of things he'd brought from his old place. "Know I snagged it." He rummaged through the pile. "Ah, here it is." He held the old polaroid (probably one of the first ever made) aloft triumphantly. "Still got a cartridge." He held said cartridge up and peered inside. "Look as though it's still good. You want to do any preenin' first?"

"Do you have a mirror?"

He gave her one of those looks.

"Didn't think so. Check me over?"

He started, but after a moment of hesitation stepped forward to peer into her slightly upturned face. A cool finger brushed at the corner of her lips and then moved up to rearrange a few strands of hair.

She had to fight the urge to lean into the touch. She missed him, missed being close to her surrogate big brother, but he hardly knew her. If he'd been creeped out by her sitting a foot and a half away she couldn't possibly hold his hand to her face like she wanted.

He stepped back quickly, probably as much put off by touching a human with gentleness as he was by her level of comfort with him.

"Smile." He raised the camera and snapped off the shot almost before she could comply.

As she left the crypt early the next morning she reflected that all in all the night was a huge success. She'd have ID soon, and money soon after that, so she could finally get a place; Spike was bedded down for the day, so there wasn't much danger of the Riley or any of his men finding the master vampire; and Buffy and Riley were in the exact same place they had been the first time around. Part of her protested the idea of letting the relationship progress as it had in the original timeline, but she couldn't really justify interfering. Buffy needed to have her "normal" relationship in order to truly appreciate what Spike could offer her. And by the time the painful parts hit maybe Dawn would be in a position to help soften the break-up so Buffy wouldn't get hurt this time. Riley either. The lousy ending aside, he really hadn't been such a bad guy.

But that was a long way off and she had much more important things to worry about. Thanksgiving was only a week away and it was time to start establishing her cred with the Scoobies.

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A/N: As promised - bonus chapter for New Years. And also Buffy. A little, tiny bit of Buffy. Which reminds me: starting to notice a trend in reviews so I wanted to remind you all - you know the part where I said this was long, slow burn? I do mean long. And slow. There will be Spike/Buffy interaction soon and even some Spuffy in this first part of the series, but their relationship at this point is going to build at about the same speed as the show. There is a reason for that, and those of you who've noticed my very practical approach to time travel may already have an inkling of what it is. That said - this whole story is already written, so telling me you're getting impatient is fine, but know that it won't change anything. I do, however, promise a very Spuffy conclusion to the series. Part III will probably even be rated M/R (site dependant), for everyone's favorite reason. But we've got a good 700-800 pages to go before we get there (to the mature stuff, you'll get fluff and flirtation much earlier). I hope that doesn't chase anyone off.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and thanks for reading. See you in two days with chapter 6.

reenas-as


	7. Chapter 6

CH 6

If there was one thing Spike knew how to do it was keep a low profile. Not that he liked to, mind, but he could do it if there was a good enough reason. Had done it often enough for Dru. Hell, he'd done it not two months ago while looking for the gem of Amarra, _and_ he'd had to put up with that airhead Harm while doing it.

Keeping a low profile didn't necessarily mean holing up every moment of every bloody day. Bloke still had to eat, had to be able to move, to breathe (figuratively if not literally). Had to hunt. Or, in his case now, go to the bloody butcher's. And he could do that without the Slayer knowing he was about.

Had taken a good round of argument, but he'd managed to convince the Bit of that as well. Though that may have had something to do with the fact that he'd also given her an enormous wad of cash at the time of the conversation. Her cash –first portion of her share of the treasure profits– but still. And even then he had to promise to avoid the campus, _the Bronze_, _the Espresso Pump_, the mall, the far tunnels near campus and in the woods on the edge of town, Willie's, and pretty much all the other demon haunts— Right, so he pretty much had to avoid everywhere, but he could go to the butcher's to get his blood, and the hospital for the same, the corner mart for booze and smokes, and the local Wally World for digs for his crypt. Made sense the Slayer wouldn't step foot in _that_ joint, prissy little valley girl. Good thing, too, as it was run by demons and the world over would hardly thank her for its demise. Though perhaps they should.

Still, it was better than the dump. Almost as cheap too. And the appliances were guaranteed to work.

Even with his newfound wealth it wasn't easy getting working electric and plumbing in the crypt, but with a little ingenuity and a lot of manual labor he'd managed it. Not like he had anything better to do and he knew it was possible. Bit had told him the other him, well, him in her original "past", had done it. Wasn't going to lose to some alternate version of himself.

Already had a nice flat screen telly, a fridge, and a microwave all hooked up. Everything a vamp could want, so far as modern conveniences went. Got a couple of chairs too. Plump, comfy ones, in front of the telly. Might get a couch as well, but that could wait. Had a bed frame and mattress all boxed up waiting for him to finish the downstairs. Was making good progress at that. Probably be finished if there hadn't been that _X-Files_ marathon all night Tuesday. Was good for a laugh, that show.

Thursday morning, Spike crawled into his makeshift bed on the upstairs sarcophagus confident that it would be the last day he slept there.

Which might have proven true if he'd actually been left to sleep. Unfortunately, he'd barely settled in for the morning when the crypt door inched open and a cheerful Dawn crept in.

Had they not had this conversation about vampire sleep cycles?

What was she doing here, anyway? Had her own place now, didn't she? Nice place too. She'd shown it to him and invited him in, just in case he ever needed to find her. He'd stopped being surprised by her overwhelming trust in him. Had to or he'd go barmy. Besides, was kinda nice to have someone around who believed in him, who actually liked him. He'd never had that before, not living or dead. Didn't mean he didn't still occasionally want to tear her throat out though.

Like now. Now when after a busy night of carting rubble and digging at walls all he wanted was sleep, and she was preventing that.

Least she'd remembered about the door this time. And she was trying to be quiet.

He pushed himself up on one elbow slightly, watching through squinted eyes as she bustled about his make-shift kitchen. What was all that junk? And how had that slip of a thing managed to lug it all here? More importantly: how had she done it without being seen? Cause if anything was going to get him caught out it was a chit hauling groceries to the crypt in the middle of the soddin' day.

"Oi, Bit, leave a bloke in peace, won't you?"

She turned, genuine remorse on her face. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? You usually sleep like the dead, pun definitely intended. I was just gonna set up while you slept."

Choosing to ignore for now the fact that she knew how he slept, and also not to admit that he'd only woken because he'd not quite been asleep yet, he instead focused on the last thing she said.

"Set up? For what?"

She grinned, holding up what appeared to be a store-bought pie. "Thanksgiving!"

It was Thanksgiving today? Bloody hell! He should have waited another few days to buy his kit. He briefly considered taking them back, but then decided it would raise unnecessary suspicions. The telly and the microwave fit in the Desoto, but he'd had to have the rest delivered to the edge of the cemetery. He could only imagine what the delivery man had thought. Though being from Sunydale he might be used to it.

"You want to help?" Dawn asked, turning back to her groceries.

"Uh, no. I want to sleep."

She pouted. "But you're awake now. Come on, it'll be fun."

He was seriously tempted to throttle her at the moment.

"Creature of the night here, remember? Besides, I'm British, we don't celebrate Thanksgiving." Not to mention _vampires_ didn't celebrate any holiday. 'Cept maybe New Year's Eve and St. Patty's day. Could feed right out in the open when people were that drunk.

"Yeah, well, I'm not, and I want to celebrate."

His gaze narrowed in sudden suspicion. "This isn't about me stayin' in, is it? Because I wasn't kidding. I don't need a babysitter."

She held up her hands in a gesture of defense and maybe placation too, hard to tell with this one. "I know and I'm not keeping an eye on you, I swear. I just don't have anywhere else to go."

Looking into her face he suddenly knew he wasn't going to win this. When had he ever? He'd always been love's bitch, but apparently he was going to have to revise that: Love's bitch and friendship's whipping boy? Not quite the same ring, that, but probably true enough.

Sighing, Spike pushed himself up and braced himself with his arms. Sleep obviously was not in the cards today. "Got a place now, yeah? Go there. Don't see why you're spending so much time here if you're not afraid I'll slip my leash."

Dawn laughed. "Make up your mind, Spike – first you're a baby, now you're a dog. Which is it?"

"'M a sleep-deprived master vampire, and you'd best not forget it, little girl," he growled.

Immediately she was contrite, though not afraid. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just kinda lonely. Everyone I love doesn't know I exist."

And that clinched it. If there was one thing Spike knew and loathed it was being alone. He wasn't built for it and neither was this sweet thing. Right now all they had was each other and he'd be doubly damned if he pushed her away.

Not that he was keen on letting her know that.

"Right, you can stay. But I'm not havin' any of this Thanksgiving rot. Put that mess down and we'll watch some telly."

She contemplated a moment and he almost thought she'd go home, because she certainly wasn't moving toward the telly, but then she brightened.

"I'll make you a deal. You help me with Thanksgiving and we'll take a field trip later today." He scowled and she hurried on. "No, seriously, you'll love this. Buffy gets attacked by vengeful Indian spirits."

"What?" Spike shook his head. Pansy soft touches, still all turned about because of something that happened four hundred years ago. An' it wasn't as though it was unusual back then. Hell, for most of human history nations had warred over land. Didn't see the Huns apologizin' for invading China, or the Romans for overthrowing the Persians and turning the whole damn world near inside-out.

"'Cause of the taking their land and giving them smallpox thing?" He snorted. "You won. All right? You came in and you killed them and you took their land. That's what conquering nations do. It's what Caesar did and he's not going around saying, 'I came, I conquered, I felt really bad about it.' The history of the world isn't people making friends. You had better weapons and you massacred them. End of story. The Indian spirits had better well get over it."

Dawn waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not because of the holiday, it's because the new construction at the university disturbed an ancient burial site."

"So they come after the Slayer?"

"Because she's the warrior leader of Sunnydale or something. Although Buffy's gonna think they're after the school board."

He snorted. Yeah, Slayerettes would think that, especially with the watcher in the lead. Thought it was all about who had a pretty title. But they should know better. Of course the spirits were gonna go after Buffy – they were only interested in real power, and the slayer had that in spades.

"Anyway, there's this whole thing with warriors and an old knife. Oh! And Angel. I have to get rid of Angel. We probably shouldn't let him see you, but if you're lucky you might get to see Buffy chew him out. What do you say?"

She tilted a pie at him, brows raised invitingly.

He almost said no, just to wipe that smug look off her face, but then he'd be stuck with Thanksgiving and no promise of entertainment. "Alright," he acquiesced. "But I'm still turnin' on the telly."

"You know there's nothing but sports and holiday specials on today, right?"

He ignored her, flipping on the screen on his way to join her and pocketing the remote just in case.

And bugger all if she wasn't right. A packet of instant potatoes and four revolutions through his pathetic basic cable package later he was forced to concede defeat. He clicked the bloody thing off, stirring the potatoes with more force than was necessary.

This thing with the Slayer had better be entertaining.

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She really hadn't meant to wake Spike. It was just that sitting in her new apartment by herself all she kept thinking was that her mother was here. Well, not _here_ here. She wasn't in Sunnydale. Somehow the fact that her mother was visiting Aunt Darlene made the idea all the more tempting. She could go, she had money now. And no one would ever know.

The Scoobies were all at Giles' having their perfect Thanksgiving ruined by icky old-timey STDs and mystic Indian bears – whoops, that'd be mystic Native-American bears. She'd already left Buffy and Giles a note. It was the kind that would make more sense after the event than before, but it might cause Buffy to have the Indian knife on hand rather than having to run for it and spare Xander an hour or so of syphilis. She knew Buffy could handle this one, but she needed to prove the notes' trustworthiness right from the get-go, as this was her first opportunity to send one. It was the only way she could think of to get them to trust her, so that when she finally needed to send something important they would actually listen.

After some hesitation she also included a brief, if highly cryptic, mention of Angel at the end. She knew he'd be around today; remembered Buffy had been so upset that they'd all snuck around behind her back, as if she couldn't handle it. Not that it lasted long. Buffy was always too quick to forgive Angel, especially when he didn't deserve it. He caused her nothing but pain and confusion: all souled up and still playing head games. If that didn't prove Angel and Angelus were the same person Dawn didn't know what did. Anyway, all that to say she was determined to put a stake in that on-going drama as early as possible. The more Angel hurt Buffy the less likely she was to trust Spike. It was like, in Buffy's mind, all vampires were the same, so if one with a soul wouldn't stay with her, of course one without wouldn't. She hadn't seen that Spike was different until it was too late.

Dawn didn't need to be there for any of that though. She'd done her part, she could slip away and go see her mother and no one would ever be the wiser, so long as she stayed out of sight.

It was too tempting and so, in an effort to distract herself, she went out and bought all the Thanksgiving fixings she could find that were readymade or could be finished using only a microwave. The logistics of hauling five full bags of food by herself to the cemetery while ensuring she wasn't observed by the Initiative were tricky, but she still managed to arrive at Spike's crypt well before noon.

She hadn't meant to wake him. But that didn't mean she was above using her little-sisterly wiles to keep him with her now that he was up. Though he looked kinda murderous and, while she trusted his control and his desire to stay alive, she didn't want him mad at her. Bargaining was definitely in order. She didn't suppose it would hurt for them to go watch the day's action. Buffy wasn't nearly to the point where she could pick out any vamp tinglies with accuracy, let alone a specific vampire. There was the minor issue of Angel, who might or might not be able to sense family nearby, but she had a feeling he'd be too focused on Buffy to pay attention to anything else. Besides, she'd kinda been thinking some more direct intervention might be required to convince Buffy and the brooding vampire to stay apart. Maybe she could do that.

She only just remembered not to mention the bear when offering her bribe to Spike. She seemed to recall he'd had an issue with the bear. Though that could have been because he'd been tied to a chair and thought he couldn't defend himself. Still, better not to take the chance. Besides, with any luck there wouldn't be a bear this time around, if Buffy had the knife like Dawn's note said to.

She'd sliced the pie and was peeling back the film on a plastic container of turkey slices to pop in the microwave when Spike finally gave up on finding anything on TV and turned his attention to her.

"Where'd you get all this nosh, Bit? 'S a national holiday innit?"

"The twenty-four hour grocery on Main is open three-hundred and sixty-five days a year. There was an awful crowd though. I think I might have bruised ribs." She held a hand to her torso. She wasn't kidding about that. That old lady on aisle 11 had a wicked-sharp elbow and way too much strength behind it for someone that old. She had to be a demon. Seriously.

Spike looked at their spread with a raised brow. "Didn't have to get so much."

She shrugged. "It's Thanksgiving, overeating and leftovers are part of the tradition."

"'Cause this is such a traditional holiday meal you're having, in a crypt with a vampire."

She stuck her tongue out at him and, after the slightest hesitation, he returned the gesture.

He set aside the instant potatoes and began rifling through the bags. "Seriously though, Bit. You'll still be eating this at Christmas."

"Some of it's for you, you know."

He paused, taken-aback. "Vampire, here, pet. Don't need it."

"But you like it, right? You're always eating people food. Well, you were. Don't you eat people food?"

"Sometimes. Is that what these are for?" He held up box of frozen Buffalo wings and she flushed despite herself.

"I know they aren't very Thanksgiving-y, but I remembered you liked them. You don't have to eat them if you don't want to." She reached for the box only to have it moved just out of reach by her vampire companion. When she looked up his eyes were dancing with mirth. He looked so much like her Spike, only happier, that she almost bowled him over in a full-out embrace.

But if she did he'd probably freak out and get all stiff again, so she refrained.

"So, you and me, we share meals a lot in this future of yours?" He leaned casually on his new table, watching her.

Dawn stiffened. He didn't often ask, he probably knew that he didn't really want to know, but she never had decided where the line was on what she should and shouldn't share.

"Right." He shook his head. "Don't know why you're so tied up over temporal contamination or what not. Planning to turn the whole bloody timeline on its head, aren't you?"

It didn't make any sense to her either, but that feeling was still there. The one in the pit of her stomach that said not to change things unless she had to. Right now she was sticking with it.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Know it must have been often enough. You're far too comfortable with me for us not to have been close in this future of yours. Not that I'm happy about that, mind you. Master Vampire paling around with the Slayer's kid sister. Unnatural. Should be draining your pretty little corpse by now. Wonder if you'd taste like slayer?"

He eyed her speculatively and she almost took a step back out of sheer instinct. She'd only seen that predatory look on his face once before, when she'd first found him in this timeline.

"Won't," he reassured her, body relaxing against the table once more. A lazy, contented panther once more. Still dangerous, but not on the hunt. "Promised you didn't I? Besides, find I rather like you."

She smiled, insides warming up. He was closer to her Spike than she'd thought if he could already admit to liking her. But then, he'd admitted to liking her mother already, so it probably shouldn't have come as such a surprise. He'd always had a soft spot for the Summers women.

It wasn't until he spoke again that she realized she was reaching out for a hug. "Don't you go getting any ideas." He straightened and turned back to their dinner. "Not coming over all mushy. Jus', well, 's less borin' with you aroun', alright?"

She knew better than to believe him. His accent always got stronger when he was embarrassed or uncomfortable. It was part of what made him such a lousy liar. Anyone who knew him could always tell. More cockney when he was telling a lie because the truth embarrassed him, softer and more upper-class when he was telling a truth from the heart. Souled or unsouled, chipped or unchipped, he was the same Spike she knew and loved – he was just a little pricklier.

She didn't call him out on it. Instead she turned and popped the turkey in the microwave. "I'm not getting ideas, I already had them. I told you right away we were friends. Took you enough time to catch up."

He scowled at her and she winked.

"Now hurry up and find the stuffing mix. The sooner we have dinner the sooner we can go find Buffy. You don't want to miss the action because you're sulking."

"Oi! Master vampire here, I don't sulk."

"But you do skulk," she quipped. "Hand me the spicy wings and I'll get those started while you stir the stuffing."

He was already rooting around in the bags and he handed her the box of wings over his shoulder as a peered at the stuffing label. "Better wait 'til you've heated a cup and a half of water. Got to mix it with hot, but not boiling, water."

"Alright. What did you do with the measuring cup after you heated the water for the potatoes?"

"Here."

The glass cup was deposited into her hand and then he was gone again, picking a bowl from the selection of cheap plastic things she'd picked up. She didn't mention how adorable it was to see him being so domestic. She didn't know if his self-control extended quite that far yet.

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"Shove over, will you?"

Stupid vampire. He knew Angel had super-vamp hearing, he could at least pretend he was being unobtrusive.

"Shh. Quit being so loud," Dawn scolded.

"Well, you're in the way," Spike practically whined. "You promised I could watch the fight an' you're blocking my view. Didn't you already see this?"

"No," she whispered. "Memory Dawn was with Mom visiting Aunt Darlene. Now be quiet."

"Move an' I'll be quiet."

"Spike! Angel is going to be showing up any minute now and if he hears you we are so dead." He shot her a black look. "Figuratively! I know you can take him. But if you do Buffy's gonna dust you so shut up!"

He clamped his lips shut petulantly.

"Thank you." Dawn scooted over half a foot, allowing Spike to share the hole in the shrubbery with her. Through Giles' window they could see Buffy stirring a bowl as she paced the tiny living room. She was speaking to someone animatedly, but whoever it was they were out of sight at the moment. Dawn noted with relief that the Indian dagger was strapped to Buffy's thigh.

"Thought you said there was gonna be a fight. She's just makin' dinner."

"There's gonna be a fight, I promise. I'm sorry I don't have an exact timetable, but I wasn't here, remember?"

"Better happen soon. My leg's getting' a cramp." He pouted and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"You don't have any blood circulation, Spike. And you don't breathe. How do you have a cramp?"

"Dunno. How do I get a stiffy?"

He leered and she blushed. Ask a stupid question . . .

"You're a pig."

"Oink, oink."

Nostalgia hit her as she remembered her sister and the vampire engaging in similar exchanges. Thankfully, before she could slip up and say something about it there was a noise from the walk.

Spike turned to it eagerly and the sat back with a disappointed huff. ""S only the whelp and his girl," he whispered. A moment later he perked up a bit. "Smells sickly though. An' not the normal sort. Haven't smelled something like that in, well, since my day." He took a deep, contemplative sniff and then turned to Dawn with a raised brow. "Where the hell'd he come up with smallpox _and_ syphilis?"

"What?" Crap, she'd totally forgotten that the whole Indian thing had started earlier in the week. That meant the professor and the priest were already dead. She should have sent that note on Monday instead of waiting. Darn foggy fake memories and secretive fake-memory older sister. She knew there were holes in her timeline.

Well, not much she could do about it now. On the bright side, Angel probably wouldn't have stuck his nose in if Buffy had stopped the whole vengeful Indian spirit thing on Tuesday, so maybe it was a good thing Dawn hadn't sent her note earlier. Not that forcing Angel to confront Buffy was worth the lives of two innocents, but what was done was done; she had to think positively.

"Vengeful Indian spirits, remember? They cursed him."

He grinned. "This is gonna be more fun than I thought. Don't suppose they curse the great forehead too?"

"Not last time. He kinda stayed away from the main action. Buffy didn't even get to see him." He glared at her. "What?"

"You said I'd get to see the Slayer rip Angelus a new one. Can't do that if she doesn't know he's here."

"That was last time. This time she has insider information. It's gonna happen." She was going to make it happen. She just had to keep him from sneaking away before Buffy figured out that he was around.

"Soddin' notes," he muttered and fell silent once more.

They crouched in the bushes, watching as Xander crashed on the couch and Anya waved her arms about at an unhappy slayer. Occasionally Spike chuckled and Dawn remembered that he could hear everything that was going on. Darn vampire hearing. She was having to make due with reading peoples' lips when they were in view, which wasn't often.

When Buffy pulled a familiar piece of notebook paper from her pocket the volume raised enough that Dawn could hear them even if she couldn't distinguish any of their words, and Spike perked up beside her.

"Well," she demanded quietly, "do they believe me?"

"They're not sure they can trust it. But Buffy's sayin' that the rest came true, and that the dagger hasn't hurt her yet. Whelp still thinks they should warn the Dean anyway, but the Watcher's already made a call. They're sittin' tight."

She wondered if he even realized he'd just referred to her sister by name instead of by the familiar title.

She only relaxed when Xander sank back onto the couch and Buffy returned to her dinner preparations.

Angel arrived moments before an Indian war party materialized out of thin air. Even Spike jumped. Dawn wasn't sure why she'd expected spirits to use conventional means of transportation, but when the apartment was suddenly full of flying arrows she realized she should have expected it. She pushed Spike further into the bushes. He didn't protest, eyes darting from the window to his grandsire, trying to take in all the action at once.

Fortunately the scuffle was brief. Dawn heard Giles shout, "Knife!" sharply, and then Buffy was plunging the dagger into Hus's heart and Angel hit the ground with a heavy _whump_ of air as the spirit he was wrestling with vanished. Spike looked positively giddy; though when he realized the action was over he pouted.

"All those arrows and not a single drop of blood."

Dawn rolled her eyes, grateful he'd kept it too quiet for Angel to hear from his spot on the ground not three yards away.

"Just watch," she whispered. She hoped they would realize what the end of her note was about. Willow and Giles at least should have figured it out, seeing as Angel had shown himself to them both.

Through the window they could see Buffy shaking the note at Giles, the look on her face almost triumphant.

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Spike could hear the goings on inside with crystal clarity – thank the Powers for vamp hearing. Slayer was crowing about the note being right as though she'd had something to do with it. Which was fair enough from what he understood of the Bit's creation, except that the slayer didn't know that.

"Hey, Giles!" She shook the crumpled piece of notebook paper in his face. "The note was totally right. I stuck the knife in and _poof_, no more angry Indian guys!"

"I feel lousy," the red witch moaned. "It's just . . . Did you see me? Two seconds of conflict with an indigenous person and I turned into General Custer."

Buffy ignored her friend, flattening out the paper and peering down at it. "Look, it's even got the thing about the syphilis."

Her watcher took the note from her, studying it. "Yes, in hindsight I do believe it's all here."

"Lemme see." Xander, who was (sadly) already looking very much recovered, peered over the man's shoulder and then up at his best friend. "Oh, yeah. It's all there. Huh, I don't remember this last part though. You're smart Wills, what do you think?"

Willow took the note. "What last— oh, hey, Giles, you don't think maybe this is talking about Ange—"

Too late Willow noticed the frantic cutting motions Giles was making behind Buffy's back.

"Ange? What's an Ange?" Xander's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he snatched the note back despite Willow's attempt to hold onto it. He read it silently. "Angel?" he asked. "This is talking about Angel? He's here." He looked up at his best friend accusingly. "And you knew!" His turned his glare to Giles who was rubbing his temples wearily. "You both knew. And you didn't tell me!"

Willow shrugged apologetically and Giles merely shook his head.

"They didn't tell me either, Xander." Buffy did not sound happy. And too bloody right. Stupid git. If he was gonna leave the girl to live her own life he should bloody well do it. Slayer could handle herself just fine without his self-righteous arse butting in where it wasn't needed. Not that Angelus would ever see it that way.

And speaking of, where was his git of a grandsire? If Spike could hear the goings on inside, surely he could as well. Glancing over he was surprised to see his relative struggling, and failing, to get to his feet. Dawn snickered beside him and he looked down at her to see a tube of contact cement in her hand. She flashed it at him deliberately before sticking it into her pocket.

Clever girl. Wouldn't hold anyone for long, let alone a vampire, but it would be long enough for the Slayer to lay hands on him. Though he didn't want to know how she'd managed to lay it out without being noticed.

The next moment the door of the flat slammed open and Buffy was charging through it, ignoring the protests of her friends and Watcher. Angel's foot chose that moment to come free, knocking him back on his arse, but it was too late to make a run for it.

Bloody Valkyrie the girl was. She scowled down at her former paramour, hands propped jauntily on her slim little hips.

"When were you going to tell me you were here? _Were_ you going to tell me you were here? And more importantly _why_ are you here? Because I could have sworn you left me. And leaving implies that you're, you know, _gone_."

The git had the sense to look halfway ashamed, though Spike knew him well enough to know he would do it all again anyway. And again. And again. Was his nature to be a controlling, manipulative bastard. Soul hadn't changed that.

"A friend of mine had a vision."

If anything this seemed to irritate Buffy further. "And you couldn't pick up the phone?" Angel opened his mouth, but Buffy steamrolled right on. "No, I get it. You had to come charging in to save the day because I'm weak and helpless and clueless. I mean, it's not like I'm the Slayer and fighting supernatural baddies is my sacred calling or anything."

She glared down at the vampire and he kept his eyes averted. In the background Spike could hear her mates whispering. The red head asserting that she'd known this was a bad idea and the whelp agreeing with Buffy's telephone sentiment. Buffy dropped her arms, some of her anger vanishing. The disappointment that took its place was almost as good, to Spike's way of thinking. Give the bloody soul something more to brood on.

"You wanna know the worst part, Angel? You didn't even respect me enough to tell me you were in town. You snuck around behind my back, planning with everybody _but_ me to do my job without me."

Finally, Angel struggled to his feet. "It wasn't like that. I didn't want you to get hurt."

She spread her arms demonstratively. "Mission accomplished. I won and I didn't need your help to do it," she snapped.

He ducked to try to meet her gaze, which, Spike expected, had been his purpose in rising. Wanted to intimidate the girl, remind her of "her place". As though she was some silly chit he could lord it over rather than the best slayer what ever walked the earth.

"I meant I didn't want you to have to deal with seeing me again. _I_ didn't want to hurt you."

She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead over his shoulder. "Well, you did." Her eyes snapped back to his with renewed fury. "And this hurts a helluva lot worse than you talking about it with me would have. So thanks for that." Without giving him a chance for further defense she whirled and strode inside. Her mates and her watcher moved aside awkwardly as she cast them a disapproving glance. Angel met the watcher's gaze and the old man shook his head before turning to follow his slayer inside. Once the slayer's gang was all inside and the door safely shut behind Angel's shoulders slumped and he trudged away.

Spike barely managed to contain his glee until his grandsire was out of vampiric ear shot. And then he laughed, a low, deep chuckle that wouldn't alert those inside to his presence.

God, that was priceless. Wanker. Teach him to treat the slayer like a child.

Beside him the Bit looked torn between sympathy for her sister and amusement. Her lips twitched helplessly.

"Oh, Bit, that was worth it, seein' him like that. Can't remember the last time anyone gave the great Angelus such a dressin' down. Treat me to more shows like that an' I jus' might behave myself more often."

She punched his arm. "It wasn't _that_ funny. I mean, okay, the part where he fell on his butt, that was pretty funny. And Buffy so needed to yell at him. She never does that, even though he deserves it." She crossed her arms prettily. "Jerk."

"Bastard," Spike countered.

Dawn shrugged. "That too."

"Maybe even literally," Spike joked. "He is Irish."

"That's racist."

"Back to that are we? Not much for being PC, pet."

"Guess not." She pushed to her feet. "Well, show's over, so I guess we should go."

Spike nodded, but didn't follow her. He could hear them inside, chatting the day out, and he strained to catch it all. Whelp was assuring them all he was feeling better already. Then the lot of them apologized to Buffy. And then someone asked for the salt and it was as though all was forgotten.

That wasn't the part that held his attention though. No. It was the sudden vision he had of the slayer and her crew around the watcher's table. Seating arrangement seemed likely enough, only in his mental picture there was an extra guest at the table: him. He was tied to a chair and begging for blood, or at least a bit of the gravy. In the vision he heard himself bemoaning the fact that there'd been an entire siege and not a single one of them had the decency to bleed a bit. The comment was eerily similar to his own earlier remark. It unsettled him.

"Spike, you coming?" Dawn was looking at him expectantly.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. Listening," he offered by way of excuse, which was half true.

The girl rolled her eyes. "You big bad eavesdropper you. C'mon, I want dessert."

"Dessert? What was that half a pie you ate before coming here?"

"Pumpkin pie is part of Thanksgiving dinner. Now I want chocolate. I think I remember how to make a brownie in a glass in the microwave."

"Oi." Spike let the banter that was fast becoming familiar between them ease away his discomfort from moments before.

Always did have an overactive imagination. Could picture it having gone that way in the Bit's original timeline. Helpless, starving, with no one to turn to. Slayer was a warrior, she had a warrior's honor. He could see himself coming to her. White hat, yeah? She'd have fed him or dusted him and either would have been better than slowly starving on his own. Yeah, might have gone down that way. Must have, if the future the Bit tried so hard to skirt around was true. Wasn't stupid, figured he must have thrown in with the Slayer's lot at some point if he and her kid sis were so close. Would explain all those other bits and bobs she tried not to say. The ways he had changed in her future.

He threw one last glance back toward the Watcher's flat. Brain was just trying to piece it all together, make sense of it all.

Dawn was waiting for him at a shadowed manhole and he quickly moved the cover aside and dropped down inside. He caught her as she dropped in after him. For just a moment her neck was at his lips and he could feel the hot rush of blood beneath the delicate skin. His fangs ached, but it never occurred to him to take the bite. And it wasn't just about the future anymore, it was about the girl. Couldn't hurt her. Not this girl who accepted him for everything he was and had been, even as she manipulated and cajoled him into compromise and change.

He scowled into the darkness. Some Big Bad he was now. How Dru would laugh if she could see him: trotting after the Slayer's one-day, once-upon-a-time, kid sister, demon firmly leashed and muzzled.

Maybe his brain should worry less about how he had changed in that other timeline and more about how he was changing in this one.

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A/N:

It's only 11:00pm where I am - so technically I kept my promise to update Saturday Also, if I had planned this better I would have started releasing this story earlier in 2014 so this chapter coincided with Thanksgiving. Alas, I did not. Oh well.

For those who are concerned, please note there is no Spike/Other warning on this story. Dawn and he are keeping it strictly sibling-esque, I promise. Aside from the occassionally leer. But, hey, she's 18 and he's a vampire. Leering happens.

Thanks for reading. Drop a review if you've got a moment. They make my day.

reenas-as


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

So I was thinking last time I posted that I should probably put up an explanation of the title for anyone who cared, and then this week someone reviewed and said they looked up Novikov - only apparently it was a completely different Novikov than I meant, so I decided I'd better do it now to avoid confusion. The Novikov this is titled after was a Russian physicist. The Novikov theory of time travel states that all points in time are immutable (fixed) and therefore a timetraveler would be unable to alter the past no matter what they did. It is an attempt to explain how time travel could actually work in the real world and still not get mired up with paradoxes. Hopefully you can infer from that where I am going with this story - yeah, we're busting that theory (and canon) all to h***.

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CH 7

Spike strolled through the dark streets of Sunnydale, enjoying being out in the open air even if he was only on his way home from the butcher shop. That was the agreement now he had a fridge. A weekly trip to the Butcher, two to the hospital, and quick trips for any other errands he needed to run. No bars, no gambling, definitely no Willie's. Not that Spike had a particular fondness for _the Alibi Room _anyway. Sniveling prat always cut the blood with orangutan. Could usually get a bottle of Jack for free though, 'f he made enough fuss about the blood. Which was why it was off limits. No fusses. No fights. Then, of course, there was the laundry list of additional places he had to avoid at all costs, not because he might cause trouble, but because the slayer frequented them.

All in all though, he'd settled into a comfortable routine. And wasn't that a riot and a half. The Big Bad with a comfortable routine. It bothered him that he wasn't more bothered by that, but after near on a month he'd given up trying to figure out why he reacted to the girl –to the changes she'd forced upon him– as he did. Was what it was, and it wasn't a bad unlife, especially if it would keep him living it. Humans were finite. Plenty of time for death and destruction when they'd sorted this mess and the Bit was gone.

And speaking of the do-gooder thorn in his side - Bit had hardly been by all week. Probably tryin' to prove she wasn't keepin' tabs on him. She trusted him, God only knew why. And so far, though he was loathe to admit it, it was justified. Planned to keep it that way too.

Missed her a bit though. The companionship. Not much of a loner, him. Was why he'd taken up with that daft bint Harmony. Didn't know how to be alone. Could always go visit the girl's flat, he supposed, it wasn't on the list of places he was to avoid, but that reeked of neediness. Besides, what if he was wrong about her proving a point? She might just be caught up in her scheming, and he wanted no part of that even if she hadn't made it clear she didn't want to involve him.

Gave him some time to get the lower level of his crypt all sorted. Got a right kingly bed, some dark wood furniture, and enough candles to light it for human eyes. Had to save the electric for the necessities or he'd draw the attention of the power people. Even on the Hellmouth someone was bound to notice that much unaccounted for usage. Telly was worth far more than lights to a vamp. Not as though he couldn't afford the candles now.

Was nice to sleep in a bed again. Though now his crypt was finished he was going barmy for lack of something to do. Bloke could only watch so much late-night television. Demon was getting antsy again. Tried to talk about it with the Bit, the once or twice she'd been by, but she hadn't been able to help much. Didn't know what he'd been expecting. She was hardly going to give her blessing for weekly brawls, so unless she was willing to volunteer for a shag . . . No. Didn't sit right with him. Wasn't much for casual sex as it was and definitely not with this girl. Pretty enough, but it didn't feel right. Not "morally wrong," not right, cause he didn't give two figs for that, but not right for him. For them. They didn't fit together that way. What little lusties he'd felt for her had long faded. Now her sister, on the other hand – hadn't even seen the bint but once since he'd come back to town and he still got a hard-on just thinking about her.

Hot little number that one. No shame in admitting it. Always got hard when they fought.

He adjusted himself without thought, shifting his bag of blood under one arm. Maybe it was just that he was thinking about her, but for a moment he could have sworn that sense that screamed "slayer" tingled through his limbs and brushed the back of his neck. Couldn't smell her though, and when he did a quick turn-about he didn't see her. No heartbeats nearby, either. Besides, Slayer would have come at him, stakes flying, if she'd seen him.

Wishful thinking, he supposed. Cor, he could use a good brawl.

Prob'ly a good thing though. Bit would never let him leave the crypt again if he got in a tousle. Especially with Buffy. Only thing worse would be if he had another run in with those soldier boys. He was half-surprised the girl hadn't asked him to move into her apartment, protective as she was being. Demon didn't even squirm at the thought anymore. Nice to have someone care about him, even strictly platonic.

With a shrug he readjusted his bag of blood and headed back toward the crypt. Best to be careful anyway. Slayer was bound to be roaming about the streets and cemeteries somewhere, and if he got caught out he really would be living in the Bit's apartment. In chains – and not in the fun way. He picked up his pace.

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Buffy took a shortcut from Shady Rest to SunnydaleCemetery, eager to finish patrol and get back to her dorm room. And it wasn't just the normal "tired of being slay-girl, wanna pretend I'm a normal co-ed" thing. She was anxious to get back to Willow, especially after her secret drinking and bad coping mechanisms incident at _the Bronze_ last night. And there were the commandos to consider too. They still hadn't figured out what the what was with those dudes, and ever since they'd attack Willow at the dorms Buffy had been reluctant to leave her well-meaning, but mild-mannered and mostly defenseless, best friend and roomie alone.

She still hadn't figured out why the commandos were in the dorms (or on campus, for that matter) at all. It seemed as though they were after demons, which would explain the lack of slayage lately. And her spidey-sense had gone off that night, so maybe they were tracking a vamp? But how had they known a vamp was in the dorms? How did they know what vamps were? And what did that have to do with poor Willow? They seriously needed some information on these guys, like, yesterday.

She ducked through an alley and stopped short on the other side. Shaking her head she peered back onto the main street.

Was that Spike?

The figure was a ways up the street, and most of the streetlights were out in this part of town, but she would know that peroxide-blond hair and that swagger anywhere.

Hadn't she just handed him his ass a few weeks ago? She'd heard about what he did to Angel too. If he thought she was going to let that slide he was sorely mistaken. She palmed her stake. This time Spike was going down.

A door burst open down the alley and Buffy heard a feminine giggle followed by a low, masculine chuckle. She glanced back to see a pretty brunette climbing some guy like a pole. She rolled her eyes. Okay, alley, yes, but seriously? She turned her attention back to the main street just in time to see Spike turn the corner.

Damn it. She stepped out onto the main street, ready to break into a sprint, only to skid to a halt as the giggling behind her suddenly turned to an aborted scream.

She whirled back into the alley in time to see fangs descending toward the girl's vulnerable throat. Without thinking she threw her stake straight into the attacker's back and he dissolved into a pile of dust, taking her stake with him. Thank God she hadn't been carrying Mr. Pointy. She hated to think of her favorite stake turned to ash.

Okay. How had she not sensed a vamp not twenty feet from her? Stupid Spike, distracting her. And that was her last stake! She couldn't chase after the bleached menace now; she'd have to restock. Not that she knew where Spike had run off to anyhow. Or, well, he'd sorta swaggered off. It's not like he'd known she was coming.

With a resigned sigh she turned back toward the campus. Nothing for it but to grab a few more stakes, and maybe a sword or an ax, and go looking for him. It wasn't like he was all that great at lying low, right? She'd be able to find him.

Willow looked up when Buffy slipped through the door to the dorm.

"Hey, early slay night?" Willow sounded eager and Buffy cringed internally.

Buffy went straight to the weapons chest in the closet. Much as she loved Willow, and she totally understood the heartbreak of the true love leave-age, she didn't have the time to talk right now. Spike was loose on the streets of her town and she had to stop him.

"Not so much," she said. She gave an apologetic shrug. "Dusted my last stake so I have to restock."

"O-or," Willow said, "you could take it as a sign that you should stay in. You did say it's been pretty slow lately, right?"

"Yeah. And on any other night I might agree with you, but I'm pretty sure I just saw Spike, so I've gotta do a search."

"Spike? No way. He wouldn't come back so soon after you beat him up, right? I mean, even Spike isn't that stupid."

"That was my thought. And it was at a bit of a distance, so I could be mistaken. There could be some other bleached-blond goth guy with a long coat running around Sunnydale, but this is my life, so it's not likely." She finished sheathing several stakes and hefted a battle axe experimentally. "I figure better safe than sorry. Worst that happens is I get some extra exercise, right?"

Willow pouted. "But, I mean, I thought— It's just, I figured since I'm kinda grievey, we could, uh, you know, have a girl's night. We could eat sundaes and watch Steel Magnolias and you can tell me how at least I don't have diabetes." She sounded so needy, and Buffy got it, she did. But she had a sacred duty here.

"Sorry,Will. You know I'd love to, but if there's even a chance Spike is back in town I've gotta go after him."

Willow made a little dismissive sound. "Please, if Spike was in town we'd already know about it. He's not exactly inconspicuous."

"And yet, all three times he's come to town before he managed to keep it on the down-low until he had his plan all set," Buffy pointed out. It was true. He was in town at least a week for the gem before she ran into him, and God only knew how long he'd been in town the first time before he'd gotten bored and come to check her out. And that sounded so wrong. Spike was not checking her out he was . . . studying her fighting style. Yeah, that sounded better. "For being so ADD he can be surprisingly patient." Her expression hardened as she tested the heft of her long sword, then changed her mind and put it back down. Too conspicuous if she had to search the whole town, stakes were going to have to do. She slipped an extra into her boot and checked the one at her waistband. "He's not going to surprise us again."

"But Buffy—"

"I'm sorry, Wills. I gotta go. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise." Buffy didn't look back at her best friend as she left the room, knowing that one look at Willow's hurt and pleading face would tempt her to cave. Her sacred duty waited for no heartbreak, not even her own. Willow would just have to understand.

Once she was out of sight of any curious co-eds, Buffy sprinted across the campus grounds. She had no idea where Spike was staying. The old factory district had been his residence of choice at least twice before, but there wasn't much of a chance he was hiding out there without her knowing. Since he'd kidnapped Willow and Xander the year before she'd included that district in her regular patrols and she hadn't seen anything unusual there recently. She didn't know where he'd stayed while looking for the gem, but it wasn't there.

Maybe someone would know something at Willie's. Even if Spike hadn't been stupid enough to stop in the bar, there were always plenty of demons around. If he was in town someone had to have heard something.

Twenty minutes later she emerged from _the Alibi Room_ with only the beginnings of a headache to show for her efforts. Maybe Willow was right, maybe she was being paranoid. But what if Willow was wrong? What if she _had_ seen Spike? Maybe he'd just arrived and word hadn't had time to spread. Whatever the case she wouldn't be able to relax until she'd exhausted every possibility. Still, what was she going to do? She didn't want to wander through every cemetery in town aimlessly. Spike had never been the cemetery sort anyway, and if he'd been holed up in one of them she'd have run across him in her regular patrols.

She was going to have to try the long-shot.

When she arrived at the old factory it looked pretty dead, pun only partially intended. Which didn't mean he _wasn't_ there, but, yeah, not looking promising. She went inside anyway, though some part of her was already preparing for the long trek through Sunnydale's many, many cemeteries. She should probably check the warehouse district too. And Crawford street, though Spike hated the old mansion almost as much as she did, maybe more, so it wasn't high on her list.

At any rate, she had a feeling she was in for a long night.

. . .

Or maybe not.

She stared, slack-jawed, at an equally stunned Spike. Seriously, was he really that stupid? Who hid out in the same spot he had, not once but twice, before?

She recovered before he did. "Huh. I thought that was going to take longer," she observed. Spike didn't even look at her, instead gaping at their surroundings, his brows drawn in confusion. Buffy took the opportunity to grab the stake from her waistband and fall into fighting stance. Spike, to her surprise, didn't attack. Instead he backed up, eyes darting side-to-side as though he were looking for something. When that something failed to appear he raised his hands defensively and opened his mouth to speak.

She didn't know what he'd been planning to say, but what came out of his mouth was almost definitely not of his own free will, and it was the last thing either of them had expected.

"Marry me."

For a moment it sounded wrong. Marry him? Vampires did not get married, and certainly not to slayers. And why would Spike even want to? They were mortal enemies.

She opened her mouth to tell him so and instead found herself exclaiming in an awed tone, "It's just so sudden. I don't know what to say." But she wasn't saying no. Why wasn't she saying no?

He stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his, and it didn't even occur to her to pull away. "Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth."

No one had ever looked at her like that, with so much love and adoration. "Oh, Spike! Of course it's yes!" Why wouldn't she say yes? She loved him. She'd always loved him; she didn't know why she'd never realized it before.

The look he gave her was a mix of awe and unadulterated joy. He slipped the skull ring from his finger and placed it on hers, folding her fingers over tenderly to keep the slightly-too-large ring in place. She blinked down at it through suddenly tear-clouded eyes, and then he was gathering her in his arms and his lips were on hers and it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever experience.

Who knew Spike would be such an amazing kisser? Seriously, it was addictive.

At length he broke away from her so that she could breathe, though she was perfectly content to stay as they were. Only, now that she thought about it, this place was a serious safety hazard, and this was a pretty bad area of town. Which meant it was an area of town likely to be populated by mysterious commandos. Mysterious commandos with an even more mysterious agenda. A mysterious agenda that seemed to have something to do with demons.

Her heart clenched in her chest and her arms tightened around her fiancé's (fiancé! She had a fiancé!) waist. Spike wasn't safe here.

He leaned to kiss her again and she shifted away.

"Mm, wait. Baby. Baby, wait." She pressed a hand lightly to his chest and he backed away to peer down at her inquisitively. "We shouldn't be out in the open like this."

Spike chuckled as he fingered a lock of her hair absently. "Hardly out in the open here, pet. And I don't think the rats mind."

She ducked his approaching lips, ignoring his disappointed, almost hurt expression. She had to be logical Buffy right now. There would be no more sweet Spike kisses if he was kidnapped by men in black ski masks.

"I know you just got into town so you probably don't know, but there are these commando guys running around and I think they're abducting demons."

"I know. And they are."

She frowned up at him.

"Almost had a run-in with them the other day. It's nothing I can't handle, baby." His lips brushed over hers, erasing her frown almost instantly, but she still wasn't satisfied. She pulled away before he could deepen the contact.

"Still, Spike. I think we should go somewhere safer."

"Alright," he soothed, running his hands gently along her arms. "Got a crypt—"

"Crypt? Spike, no, the cemeteries are the first place they'll look if they want monsters."

"You have a better suggestion?"

"I don't have to have a better suggestion to know yours is bad," she snapped. Almost instantly she regretted it, clapping a hand over her mouth in horror. This was the man she loved. How could she treat him like that? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, you're right. But we do have to go somewhere."

She considered this a moment. Her mother was out of town, but the house was on the other side of Sunnydale. "We can go to Giles'," she said. "No one would think to look for you there."

Spike scowled down at her exuberance. "And well they shouldn't. Watcher's like to stake me the moment he sets eyes on me."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna let Giles stake you, Spike. I love you."

His eyes lit up. "Love you," he murmured, momentarily distracting her with more tasty kisses. When he finally released her to breathe she was gasping.

"Giles. Closest. Please?" she pled, once she'd regained some ability for thought.

He frowned. "You're mates aren't gonna be happy 'bout this, pet."

No, they probably wouldn't be, but it was her life and she wasn't going to let them tell her what to do. "Yeah, well, they'll deal. They have to, because I'm not going to give you up." She took his hand firmly and he smiled down at their linked appendages goofily.

"Better sooner than later? That your thought."

"Yep." She popped the 'p' perkily. "I promise, I can totally handle the Scoobs."

He considered her for long moments and finally gave a slow nod. "Holdin' you to that, luv."

With their supernatural speed it was a short trip to Giles' apartment. His door was locked, but Spike needed an invite anyway, and since Buffy didn't live there she couldn't issue it. She knocked heavily on the door.

After a few moments the door pulled open slowly and Giles squinted around it at them.

"Hey, Giles" Buffy gave a little wave.

Almost immediately he seemed to relax. He pulled the door open fully. "Oh, Buffy, it's only you."

"Um, yeah." Who else would she be?

His eyes drifted a bit too slowly to the figure at her side and he frowned.

"Is that Spike?" Immediately he thrust a cross out before him. Why was he packing a cross? "Willow said he might be back in town, but I didn't believe even he would be so stupid."

"Oi!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. Again with the obvious. And like she needed his help to deal with Spike? She pushed the cross aside gently. "Yes, Giles. It's Spike. I need you to invite him in."

"Surely not, Buffy. I am not inviting the Slayer of Slayers into my home. Furthermore, why would you want me to?"

Buffy steeled herself, tightening her grip on her fiancé's hand. He squeezed back, offering what support he could. "Because I love him and it's not safe for him out here."

"Love him? Buffy, what on earth are you talking about? Did you go to a frat party?"

"I'm not drunk, Giles. Spike is back. We're in love."

Her mentor frowned down at her. His eyes were weirdly unfocused. Maybe he was getting a migraine? That would explain why he was having trouble grasping this simple concept.

"Look, invite Spike in and we'll talk. Okay?"

His look turned vaguely suspicious. "I think not. Would you mind terribly holding this?" He handed her the cross and she took it with a sigh.

"I wasn't turned. Geeze, Giles, you saw me _yesterday_, in broad daylight. I'm good, but even I couldn't become a vampire in less than twenty-four hours." She released her hold on Spike to take a deliberated step across the threshold. Giles stumbled back as though he hadn't really expected her to be able to. "See." She spread her arms wide. "Still human." She stepped back onto the porch, immediately tucking herself into Spike's side. "Now, can we come in?"

Giles rubbed a hand across his eyes, then moved it up to massage his temples. "I— this isn't making any sense. Perhaps _I'm_ drunk." He nodded. "Yes, that would explain . . . so many things. I think I'm going to lie down now." He began to wander away, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Buffy sighed loudly. 'Fine, we'll go to my mom's place. She's out of town on a buying trip anyway."

Several feet away her watcher went deathly still, but Buffy wasn't really paying attention anymore.

"Ooo. Trying to get me alone now, are you, Slayer?" Spike teased at her ear. His breath there made her shiver, and not because it was only room temperature.

Giles interjected before Buffy could respond. "Buffy! You are not going to invite that – that soulless _thing_ into your mother's home."

She laughed. "Of course not, Giles." The vampire stiffened against her side and she rubbed his back soothingly. "I never disinvited him." Beside her Spike froze, a look of wonder on his fine features.

"Never?" he questioned softly. "Not even after that debacle last year? And then last month with the gem . . ."

She titled her head quizzically. "Huh. Well, when you put it that way I don't know why I didn't. I guess I just knew you wouldn't take advantage of my trust." Her arm tightened around his waist. "You'd never hurt my mom."

He swept her into his arms, holding her against his chest and staring down into her face adoringly. "'S 'cause we're destiny, you and me," he murmured. "Some part of us knew it all along."

They kissed. Noisily.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Come in, Spike." Giles grumped. "As if I'm leaving you two alone like this, dream or no," he muttered.

Unfortunately he'd forgotten that one of his new houseguests had vampire hearing.

Spike grinned. "Not gonna sully your girl, Watcher. I promise: no hanky panky until after the wedding."

Buffy had never seen a non-vampire go so pale before in her life. Giles literally looked white as a sheet – well, white as a white sheet, because, really sheets came in all sorts of nifty colors and patterns now.

"Wedding?!"

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A/N:

I may start posting a little more than every other week. We're getting to a point where a single "episode" of the show is sometimes covered in multiple chapters, so I may start posting "episode arcs" - by which I mean I'll post all the chapters that cover a single episode only a week apart, and then we'll wait an extra week before starting the next set of chapters. Maybe. I'd love to post more often, but right now I'm only writing about a chapter every two weeks, so that's what I'm posting even though I'm ahead - because I don't want to catch up to myself. Also, with all this time travel nonsense sometimes as I continue writing I realize I need to tweak something earlier in the story to make everything fit, and I don't want to make those changes after I've posted. Thanks for your patience and for all the reviews for the last chapter. If I don't respond it's not because I don't appreciate you, it's because I'm very busy so I typically only answer direct questions that aren't going to be answered in the story itself.

reenas-as


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Notes:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This is the second post this week - so if you didn't read the one from this weekend go back a chapter.

Also, you're going to see some familiar dialogue here from "Something Blue" - I tried to show you the before and afters around the scenes in the show and the things that changed mostly, but there are some direct scenes from the episode. I focused on our main characters' thoughts and motivations though, so hopefully those scenes will still feel fresh.

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CH 8

"Wedding?!"

Was funny, the way the Watcher nearly passed out at the word. Though when Spike snickered Buffy shot him a dirty look, so he tried to restrain his mirth.

"Giles, are you okay?" she fussed about her watcher even as the man waved her away.

"I— yes. I just, I need to make a call. Have a seat, won't you?"

"Okay," Buffy said meekly.

It tore Spike up to see her so uncertain. He rubbed a hand in soothing circles on her lower back. Knew this would be harder on her than she thought. Least she wasn't backing down. He hadn't realized until that moment how afraid he'd been that she would.

He guided her gently toward the overstuffed chair in the corner. "C'mon now, luv. Watcher said to take a seat, and we want to be good houseguests, don't we?"

Buffy nodded and allowed him to pull her down into his lap. He snuggled her in close. Casting about for something to distract her (could hear the Watcher on the other side of the wall, talking to the whelp – could think what they wanted, but this wasn't any spell, he'd always loved Buffy) his gaze fell on a notepad and pen on the lamp table and he snatched them up.

"Why don't we do some planning?" he suggested. "Just until your Watcher comes back. Lots of things to decide for a wedding."

Buffy perked up almost instantly. "Wedding plans? You're going to help?"

He puffed out his chest, slightly offended. "Course I'm gonna help. Have to make sure everything's perfect for my girl, don't I?" She smiled apologetically and he tucked her back against him. "Now, where do you wanna start?"

"There's so much to decide. Ceremony, guests, reception . . ." Her fingers walked up his chest to his chin.

He didn't allow her to distract him, easy as it would have been. Last thing she needed was for the Watcher to come back in on them snogging and have a heart attack or summat. "Well, first thing I'd say, we're not having a church wedding."

"How 'bout a daytime ceremony. In the park."

Spike rolled his eyes. Such a valley girl, this one. "Fabulous. Enjoy your honeymoon with the big pile of dust."

She made a cute little face. "Under the trees. Indirect sunlight, only."

Behind her the Watcher was making his way to the couch, feeling along with one hand as the other was occupied with a glass of what smelled like fairly good Scotch. Something not right there, but Spike didn't have time to suss it out right now. Girl was recitin' her childhood dreams, not at all taking into account the fact that her lover was a vampire.

He shook his head. "Warm breeze tosses the leaves aside, and again – you're registering as Mr. and Mrs. Big-Pile-of-Dust."

Buffy smacked his chest lighting. "Stop it! This is our wedding and you're treating it like a big joke!" Her lower lip protruded prettily and he lost the battle he'd been waging with his libido. Watcher wasn't paying them any mind anyway.

"Oh, pouty! Look at that lip. Gonna get it. Gonna get it . . ."

She giggled as he nipped at her lip and he shut her up with a kiss.

"Oh, stop," she told him, but it was obvious she didn't mean it.

"Yes, please stop," the Watcher voiced from the couch. He took a good, long, swig of his drink.

Unfortunately he'd already caught Buffy's attention. She stopped kissing Spike to thrust her hand out in his direction.

"Giles, did you see my ring?"

He squinted in their general direction and then muttered, "Thankfully, not very well." Then he leaned back into the couch, rubbing wearily at his eyes. When Buffy squirmed out of his lap, Spike let her, studying the other Brit thoughtfully.

Buffy sat on the couch next to Giles, facing him earnestly. "I'm not crazy, and I know that you probably don't approve, and my father's not that far away, I mean, he could— but this day is about family –my real family– and I would like you to be the one to give me away."

Instead of pulling away in horror, as Spike had expected, the Watcher seemed unexpectedly touched. "Oh, Buffy! That's, that's so . . ." Spike saw the moment the man came back to himself and he wished he could shield Buffy from what was obviously coming. "Oh! For God's sake! This is nonsense. Something is making you act this way. Don't you realize what you're doing?"

His protective instinct was all for naught, apparently, because Buffy didn't seem at all put off by her mentor's censure. She merely smiled, looking back at him with adoring eyes.

"Living a dream," she said.

Spike gave her a dopey smile of his own. "He's gonna have to take a bit of time to get used to it, pet."

She sighed. "They all will," she agreed. "Better sooner than later," she mouthed and he nodded. Then she turned back to Giles. "But you guys weren't crazy about Angel at first, either."

He nearly snarled at the name. Why was she bringing up his git of a grandsire now of all times? She had to know what they would do to him. Lived in the shadow of that ponce for far too long.

"Don' say that name," he said.

His girl was immediately contrite. "Sorry. Why don't we talk about where we're going to register?"

He knew it was childish, even unfair, but he couldn't let it go. He hated the wanker. Hated him. And he knew better than most what it was like to live with a woman still pining after that berk. Nothing worse than having a woman say she loves you only to run to her former as soon as he crooks a finger. Even if he had disappeared for eighty years without so much as a by-your-leave. And even if he'd broken the girl beyond repair, made her a shadow of herself.

Spike didn't even realize he was channeling anger with a very different woman.

"Well, where would Angel like to register? And can we have the photographer Angel would've wanted? And flowers Angel would have liked?"

Buffy bounced to her feet, indignant. "Hey! You think I don't live with the shadow of Drusilla over my head?" She moved toward him. "That I'm not wondering if you're going to be thinking of her on our honeymoon when you're making sweet love to me?" Finally reaching him she sank back on to his lap and ducked her head to his.

Well now. Couldn't be angry with her after a statement like that. Eager to reassure his lady-love he stretched up to meet her kiss. After a too-short blissful moment they were interrupted by the sound of glass hitting the floor. Buffy pulled away, concerned for her watcher.

"Giles, are you okay?"

"I rather think not." He was waving his hand about just short of the table and Spike realized what he was going to say a moment before he said it. "I seem to be rather, rather . . . blind. Completely, in fact."

Buffy was off Spike's lap and beside her watcher in an instant and Spike didn't begrudge the fact. The man was important to her. Bloody well near her father. Better one than her real one according to Joyce. His mind was already working through the possible reasons for sudden blindness. Though, as this was the hellmouth, only a handful seemed very likely. One or two demon venoms, or magic. And his money was on magic.

"What? How could this happen?"

God, he loved her, but she wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, was she? Better than Harm though. Harm made Buffy seem bloody well brilliant. An' Buffy had scored high on her tests, hadn't she? She'd said something about that during their scuffle over the gem of Amarra.

Buffy waved a hand in front of the Watcher's face and Spike decided those two weren't likely to suss this out anytime soon. He strode to the bookshelf. Watcher had to have one or two catch-all books of common spells.

Behind him the watcher finally got to the point. "A spell, I believe."

Spike snagged a promising book as Buffy reassured the other man.

"Well, we'll fix it. Don't worry."

Right, time he put in his two cents then. "What you want is a general reversal spell. Gonna need supplies."

"Are you . . . helping me?"

Spike shrugged. Why shouldn't he? Watcher wasn't a bad sort, all in all, had stood up to Angelus and his torture long enough. And Buffy loved him. "Well, it's almost like you're my father-in-law, in'nt?"

Buffy positively beamed. "See? This is how it's gonna be. Spike'll even take care of you while I'm at the magic shop."

And he would too, if only for the way she batted those pretty green eyes at him. She made her way back to him and he welcomed her with open arms.

"From now on, we're a family," she said, and he couldn't resist kissing her once more. Bloody adorable, his girl.

"That's alright. I have more Scotch."

Spike broke away from Buffy with an eye roll. Right. Not gonna get any peace until the watcher was put to rights. And maybe helping to fix the bloke would earn him a bit of leeway.

"Best be off then, luv," he prompted. "Sooner we set the Watcher to rights the sooner we can sneak off somewhere." He winked at her and she giggled.

"Alright, I'm going." She raised her voice, "Giles, I'm gonna go get the stuff now, okay?"

Spike was already making her a list. She peered over his shoulder.

"Mother wort, tarragon, burba weed, eye of newt." She made a face at that. "Eeww. Why are spells always so icky? Tumeric, black sand, tagas root, purple quartz. Got it." She shoved the completed list into her pocket and gave Spike a quick peck on the check. Much as he wanted to make it something more he knew if they got started again they'd forget all about the spell ingredients. It was already late, and even on the hellmouth the magic shop would close eventually. "Be nice while I'm gone!" Buffy caroled as she bounced out the door.

Spike stared after her, enjoying the way those pants showed off her bum.

"Stop that."

He whirled toward the watcher. "Stop what?"

"That." Giles waved his arm vaguely. "I may not be able to see you, but I know what you're up to."

Spike quirked a brow. "Seein' my girl off?"

"You were staring."

"Is that all? Well, yeah. Right gorgeous, Buffy. Thought so even when I hated her."

"And now you don't. Hate her that is."

Spike stared at the door. "Don't think I ever really hated her, you know? Fine line and all."

"Good Lord." The watcher fumbled around until he found the couch and sank back onto it. "I'm going to lie here and drink my Scotch now. Be a good vampire and make like the dead, won't you?"

The urge to snark was there, but Spike refrained. Wouldn't hurt him to sit quiet a minute or ten while his girl was out. Could work on their plans. Study the spell. God knew Buffy couldn't cast it and he wasn't eager to bring her friends into this if they didn't have to. Giles had been vague enough in his conversation with the boy earlier that he doubted the idjit was any the wiser. Best handle this on their own. Then he'd have proof of his change of heart to offer them. It might help. A little.

"Trying to do you a good turn here, Watcher. Could show a little gratitude."

"Spike, please. A moment of silence is all I ask."

"Just sayin'," Spike muttered. He settled into the overstuffed chair with the spell book, rolling the Latin words silently across his tongue. Yeah, he could do this. Amazing the memories that stuck from his human life. After a few times through he got bored. When his eyes wandered the small living area and found nothing of interest he started contemplating this spell that had the Watcher all out of sorts.

"Who did it, you reckon?"

There was a heavy sigh from the figure on the couch.

Spike ignored it. "Red? You think? Or, well, I'd imagine you lot have pissed of an occasional witch and warlock in the line of duty, yeah?"

"Spike," Giles said in a warning tone.

"I'm jus' sayin'. We don't know this spell won't snap right back once we've lifted it. Be helpful to know who cast it."

Across the room Giles sat up. "If I give you some Scotch will you kindly shut up?"

Spike eyed the bottle and then stood, slapping his hands against his thighs. "Could do, yeah. But I'm takin' the bottle." He might have to behave now, but he wasn't a saint.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The apartment was eerily silent as she approached and for a moment Buffy wondered if they'd killed each other. But Spike wouldn't do that. He loved her and killing Giles would hurt her, so Spike wouldn't do that. He didn't hurt the women he loved. As for Giles, well, how much could one blind, middle-aged British dude do to a master vampire? Yeah. Spike was fine.

But it was still a little bit squicky.

She pushed the door open carefully. "Spike? Giles? I'm back."

"Buffy!" Spike welcomed her with an exuberant hug and a smacking kiss.

"Mmm. Hi. Guess you're not dead then."

"Not any more than usual. An' neither is the Watcher. He's asleep on the couch."

She frowned as she pulled away to peer at the couch. "Asleep? How long was I gone?"

"Almost forty minutes, pet. But I suspect he's just worried and overwhelmed. Not to mention a bit sloshed."

"You let my watcher get drunk?"

"Oi!" Spike protested, looking awfully offended for an evil demon. Like corrupting the innocent was outside his wheelhouse? "Rupert's a big boy. He let his own self get drunk."

Buffy entered the room and stared in horror at the empty bottle of Scotch on the mantle. "He drank an entire bottle of Scotch?"

"No." Spike came up behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist. "I drank the whole bottle of Scotch. He gave it to me." He tucked her into his chest, resting his chin on her shoulder. "He's fine, luv. Least he will be once we do the spell. You have the stuff?"

"Oh, right." Buffy pulled away and handed him a brown paper sack.

He opened it and rifled inside. He looked up with a frown. "No tagas root?"

"They were out. But they're getting a shipment tomorrow."

"Ah." He placed the bag on the shelf next to the spell book. "That what took you so long then?" he asked, taking her hand and pulling her back to their chair.

"No. I got a little distracted on my way out. There was the prettiest wedding dress in a shop window. All white and pretty." She smiled dreamily and then frowned. "And then Riley saw me and he was all upset that I was getting married. Boys are stupid."

"Hey!"

She smoothed a hand down his arm. "Not you. You're not a boy anyway, you're a man. And a vampire," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Too bloody right," he growled. "An' who's this Riley bloke anyhow?"

"He's a TA in my psych class. Willow thinks he likes me."

Spike growled and it vibrated all through her body in a way that was kinda nice. Still, probably best not to encourage it.

"You're not gonna do the jealous cave-vamp thing again, are you? Because, even though it makes me feel all melty and important, it's gonna get kinda old after a while."

"Don't like that he's sniffing 'round what's mine."

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't _yours_ when he met me. You haven't even been in town."

He took her chin firmly in hand and stared into her eyes intently. "Always been mine, Slayer. We just didn't know it." Before the feminist in her could rise up he rubbed noses with her and murmured, "Always been yours too. Think I was turned for this moment."

She melted. "Awww," she cooed. "That's so sweet. And kinda sad, but so sweet." She kissed him. And then he kissed her. And then they were a tangle of kissy goodness.

"Stop that," a groggy voice demanded.

"Giles!" Buffy pulled away to smile at him, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm back."

"So I noticed." Giles sat up. "You should have woken me. I'd like to get this spell done as soon as possible."

"Yeah. About that. Sorry, but we're gonna have to wait till tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Giles asked archly, clearly misunderstanding her tone. And, yes, that might have come off a little casual, maybe even flippant, but she was just trying to keep things in perspective. It wasn't that she didn't care that he'd have to be blind all night. She felt bad, really, but what could she do?

"Ah huh. We can't do it tonight."

Her watcher gave his trademark heavy sigh. "Dare I ask why not?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't get everything on the list. Oh! But you know what I did find?" She scrambled off Spike's lap a moment, ignoring his protests, to grab the bag she'd stuffed in her coat pocket. There it was! She returned to her fiancé and, with a triumphant grin, pulled out her prize. "Look what I bought for us, honey." She sank back into his lap and held the cake topper she'd found at the bridal store next to the magic shop.

"Wassat?" Spike titled his head curiously.

She giggled. "It's us! Well, mini us. It's a cake topper. You know, for our wedding cake?"

Spike gave her a look of utter adoration. "Aren't you jus' the sweetest thing," he murmured.

She grinned and proceeded to walk the tiny couple up his arm, humming the wedding march loudly. It really was an adorable cake topper. Although she hadn't been able to find one with hair quite Spike's shade of radioactive blond.

"So, the plan is to cure my total, incapacitating blindness – tomorrow." Giles interrupted from across the room. His voice was raised, but kinda muffled. Like maybe he had his face pressed into the couch. She tried to check, but she couldn't see over the back of the couch from her seat on Spike's lap and she wasn't moving. It was probably just as well. Somehow she thought seeing Giles like that would have completely robbed her of all respect for the man. Her stoic, staid watcher with his head buried in the couch cushions . . .

"They were all out of Tagas root at the magic shop. They'll have more tomorrow. I'm completely on top of it." She turned back toward Spike, holding up the figurines for his perusal once more. "Aren't they a perfect little us?"

Spike studied the plastic figures intently for a moment and then frowned. "I don't like him. He's insipid. Clearly human."

"Oo, red paint. We could smear a little on his mouth – blood of the innocent." She smiled slyly at him and he returned the look.

"That's my girl." His hand tangled in the hair at her nape and he pulled her in for another delicious kiss. It was a little showy though. And loud. She wondered if he was doing that on purpose. Probably so – evil, after all.

"Stop that right now! I can hear the smacking."

Buffy pulled away from Spike with a sigh, but decided for the sake of her watcher's sanity that they should probably refrain from too much further PDA. Especially since she was almost certain Spike was being deliberately obnoxious about it. Besides, they had kinda sprung this on Giles. He was going to need time to adjust.

Probably just as well. Wonderful as kissing Spike was, because, honestly, she'd never met anyone who kissed like Spike –he kissed her like her lips were the only things keeping him in this world and he was never going to stop– they had planning to do. They'd hardly gotten anything decided before Giles interrupted them earlier.

They'd barely even launched into a discussion on invitations (which may or may not have devolved into a fight about their respective names) when Xander and Anya burst through the door in a panic.

"Board up the windows and barricade the doors," Xander instructed, already pulling a bookcase in front of the door.

Buffy rose, pulling Spike up with her, and over at the couch Giles stood as well, though she wasn't sure why. Ingrained response probably.

"What's going on?" Giles demanded, turning in the general direction of his front door.

"Demons," Anya said. "They keep coming and coming."

Xaner finished with the bookcase and glanced fearfully at the windows. "I think we lost them, but I couldn't see—" he broke off with a shriek, jerking back toward the bookcase blocked door and pulling Anya behind him. "Spike! Spike is in your living room. Giles, did you know Spike is in your living room?"

Giles rubbed at his temples. "Sadly, yes."

Buffy leaned forward to peer around Spike, who had somehow positioned himself between her and the door in less than a second. Protective. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She was the slayer, so she didn't really need protection. But the girl in her thought it was kinda nice, to have someone care that much. Angel had usually just pointed her in the direction of danger and slunk off into the dark. And it wasn't like Spike thought she was helpless. He had firsthand knowledge of her ability to kick demon butt, and he thought it was hot.

"Hey, Xander," she greeted her friend. "Of course Spike is here. He's my fiancé. He goes where I go."

"An' vice versa, pet."

She wrinkled her nose. "Eww. I am not going anywhere creepy, fiancée or not."

Xander, for his part, seemed unable to speak, his mouth opening and closing with strangled sputtering sounds.

Anya patted him on the back before saying, brightly, "Hi. Weren't you a bad guy last time we met? Vampires are excellent lovers, but Buffy doesn't usually like them unless they have a soul. Did you get a soul?"

Spike growled. "Bloody well did not."

"Spike doesn't need a soul," Buffy said. "He's going to be good now for me. Because he loves me."

Spike stiffened against her. "Oi! Don't recall saying I was gonna be good, Slayer."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Well, you can't keep eating people. I'm the Slayer."

"And I'm a master vamp. Still the Big Bad here."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Buffy stomped her tiny foot petulantly and Spike tried not to be affected.

"If you eat people I'll have to stake you. I don't want to be Mr. and Mrs. Pile of Dust, remember?" Her lower lip jutted out in a quivering pout and Spike felt himself melting. Shouldn't torment his love like this. Was bein' good anyway, wasn't he? What harm was it to tell her?

"Oo. There's that pout again," he teased, leaning in. "Gonna get it." He nipped gently at her lips and she giggled a moment. She pulled back before he could get a real kiss from her though, trying to look stern.

"Spike."

"Alright. I'll behave," he promised. "Now gimme."

Argument over, Buffy surrendered her lips to his.

"How? What? How?" Xander asked in the background.

"Three excellent questions," the Watcher said.

Spike ignored them, focused solely on the lips of his slayer. Cor, but she had an amazing mouth. Sweet and warm. Like honey. He tangled his fingers in her hair, surrendering to the sensation. He didn't even bother to work at making it loud and obnoxious as he had before. Couldn't get a proper taste, smacking about like that.

A pointed finger jabbed at his arm and he pulled away from his girl with a growl to see that it was the whelp's girl. And when exactly had the whelp got himself a girl? Buffy elbowed him and he forced his body to relax. Right. Being good. The word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

"This is all very nice, but can we do something about the demons chasing Xander now?"

"Right, demons." Buffy released Spike, tilting her head to the side. "You lost them, right Xander? Because if you lost them, that'll give us some time to figure this out." She turned her gaze to Spike. "Maybe the demons have something to do with Giles being blind."

"Giles is blind?"

Spike didn't know if the whelp hadn't received Rupes' message or if he just hadn't deigned to tell his girl.

Xander walked over to Giles and starts waving his fingers in front of Giles' face. Well, that answered the question. Never got the message. Spike rolled his eyes. Immature prat.

"Please, stop whatever you're doing. You smell like fruit roll-ups."

Honestly, they were embarrassing, the lot of them. "This is the crack team that foils my every plan?" Spike groused. "I am deeply shamed." Was it the PTB that did it? Heaven's chosen and all. Maybe Buffy didn't win because this group was good at what they did, maybe it was pure divine intervention.

Buffy clutched at his arm, drawing firmly against his side. "Spike's right. We really should get organized."

The Slayer agreeing with him? It really must be love. He shifted her a little closer, gripping her hand securely in his.

Xander was staring again. "Why are you holding hands?" he asked dumbly.

His girl rolled her eyes, speaking before Spike or Buffy could. "They just made out, like, ten seconds ago, and you're worried about some handholding? Besides, Buffy already told you he's her fiancé, remember? They're getting married."

Spike looked down at Buffy adoringly only to find her already staring up at him. The rest of the room seemed to fade away and it took all he had not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her again. Or maybe take her upstairs to the watcher's room. But he'd promised – not until after the wedding. Buggering honor. He was evil; he could break his word this once, yeah?

In the background the others were speaking, but Spike only had eyes for Buffy. "What are you lookin' at?" he asked playfully.

"The man I love."

Well, that sealed it. Good or not he couldn't _not_ kiss her after a proclamation like that. His lips found hers as though magnetized. God, he could kiss her like this forever.

"Can I be blind too?"

"Stop that kissing," the girl demanded. "It's reminding me that the demons interrupted us before I got my orgasm. And we need to figure out this thing, right? Whatever made Giles blind and has Xander being chased by demons. And probably the two of you kissing, too."

"Wait," Xander paused, thinking. "Married. I know something . . . what is it? Everything's so familiar . . . Work, brain – work!"

Distantly Spike thought that would be a miracle in and of itself, but his lips were otherwise occupied so he didn't voice the thought.

After another second the boy exclaimed, "Oh! Oh oh! Willow!"

"Mm . . . what about Will," Buffy attempted to ask, but Spike refused to relinquish her lips long enough for her to speak clearly. She gave him a gentle push. "Mmm, honey, get off." She pulled away, ignoring his pout.

"Something about Willow and her griefy-poor-me mood swings — so, so tired of it."

So Red _had_ done this. Hadn't he tried to tell Rupert as much? Spike had always known the girl had power. Could smell it. Made him more than a bit uncomfortable, that. Magic always had consequences.

"You mean I don't have to be nice about her anymore?"

Spike was going to have to get himself an introduction to the whelp's girl. Honest, that one. Funny too. Like to have name to attach to that pretty face, even if he wasn't likely to ever use it.

Buffy propped her hands on her hips in a way that made him want to drag her into the other room, but he refrained. This sorry lot was finally on to something and the sooner they solved it the sooner he'd have Buffy all to himself.

"Well, we're all tired of it," Buffy said. "But what does it have to do with what's going on?"

The wheels in the boy's head had finally picked up speed. "She told me I was a demon magnet, a-and you two should get married." He pointed at them accusingly.

"And when I called her to ask after Buffy she said that I didn't see anything," Rupert said.

"You called Willow tonight?"

Spike nudged his girl. "He said that, when we came to the door. That Willow said I might be back in town."

"Oh." She paused thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think I remember that. So, she did a spell."

"Yes. To have her will done." The watcher paused, face alight with realization. "Whatever she says is coming true."

Buffy, always concerned for others, looked from her watcher to her friends worriedly. "And you both were affected. I probably only escaped because I'm the Slayer." She looked to Spike for confirmation and he gave her a quick nod. "Some kind of natural immunity."

Unfortunately, her friends weren't so supportive. "Yeah. Right," the whelp snarked. "You're marrying Spike because you're so right for each other."

"Xander."

Spike pulled her closer. She might play strong, but he knew the remark hurt her. "That's it – you're off the usher list," he threatened.

"People, Willow is out there and she probably doesn't know what she's doing," the watcher said. Which was true enough and it got them all back on task.

"We gotta find her," the whelp said.

"Before somebody gets really hurt," Buffy agreed.

The watcher nodded and then promptly fell over the couch attempting to walk toward the door. Spike bit back a gleeful chortle. The others worriedly hurried to right the Brit. No sense of humor, any of them, but it wouldn't earn him any points to say so, so for once he kept his mouth shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They hit the dorm room first, hoping Willow would still be there. She wasn't. At first Buffy feared a repeat of the night before, with the dancing and the booze, but that was only until she noticed the burn marks on the floor. Anya said it was the work of D'Hoffryn. She didn't know who or what a D'Hoffryn was, but if it had taken Willow it was going to be sorry.

Apparently, D'Hoffryn was the guy who made Anya a demon more than a millennia before. And Anya was pretty sure he'd picked Willow as his next recruit. And while Buffy didn't think her friend would choose to become a vengeance demon she hadn't thought the quiet redhead would make Giles blind either, so she wasn't willing to take any chances. Plus, there was no guarantee this demon making dude was going to give her a choice, and if he did he might not be so nice when Willow said no. They needed to rescue Willow stat!

Anya took them to a crypt from which she thought she could summon D'Hoffryn. And Buffy only got distracted once or twice. Which was really, really, good, because she was having a very hard time concentrating on anything not Spike. And it was so not fair that he didn't want to take pictures. The ivy on that mausoleum was gorgeous. And was it weird that she wanted to take wedding photos in a cemetery? Her husband-to-be _was_ a vampire and she was the Slayer. They spent a lot of time in cemeteries, so it was alright, right?

Unfortunately, a demon interrupted that internal debate before she could decide if it was even worth trying to debate the issue with Spike. With both her and Spike fighting they didn't have much trouble reaching the crypt, despite the demons popping out of the bushes like some sick game of whack-a-mole. Inside the crypt was another story altogether. A girl would think narrowing the field would be useful when untold hoards were attacking, and maybe it was, but the demons just would not stop coming. And even slayers and vampires who loved to brawl got tired eventually. If Anya didn't summon this Huffygrin guy soon they were all gonna be demon food.

Spike and Xander had managed to prop a slab up against the door, but it wasn't going to hold long.

"Don' worry, luv, I'll protect you."

She frowned, pausing in her search for weapons, or anything else remotely useful in the crowded crypt. That was twice now. "You think you have to protect me?"

"Oh, not with the girl-power bit," Spike growled. "You know, that would make most girls warm and melty inside."

Actually it did, a little, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "Spike, I'm the Slayer, I can take care of myself."

"Know that," he grunted, pushing hard against the slab as it bucked under a fresh onslaught. "Know I don't have to protect you. But I want to. If we're gonna do this thing you have to let me in, luv, let me help. We're a team, yeah?"

She was surprised to hear the offer, especially after the way he'd objected to her assumption that he'd be good earlier. And then there was that argument outside the dorm where he'd implied he didn't want her to slay anymore. Fair trade for him being good, or something like that.

"A team?" she echoed.

He met her gaze solemnly. "Talk tough, Slayer, but I know they're not gonna lay off you jus' 'cause you're mine. Probably come after me now, too. An' I know better than most that slayers aren't invincible. One misstep, one vamp or demon gets in a lucky blow . . . Not gonna lose you, Slayer, not for a long while."

"Spike," she whispered, eyes filling with tears. That was the sweetest thing, like, ever.

And she totally would have told him so had the demons not burst through the makeshift barrier just at that moment. The heavy slab fell directly on Spike and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. With an outraged shout she threw herself at the coming hoard, trying to beat them away from her fiancé. Some must have gotten past her though, because she could hear the others fighting in the background. An inarticulate roar filled the crypt and she turned to see Spike bounce back to his feet, swinging at the nearest demon.

The flood of demons had slowed to a near trickle when one of them managed to get the drop on Spike, knocking him to the floor and straddling the vampire to keep him from rising. It didn't even occur to her that the demon didn't have a stake or that Spike might be planning a counterattack, she reacted without thought. In half a second the demon was dead, along with the one she'd been tousling with a moment before. Spike looked up at her with equal parts admiration and lust and she had to bite her lip to keep from pouncing on his temptingly horizontal form.

"Spike, are you okay?"

"Slayer," he growled, and it sent a shiver of pure lust through her. That was all it took to break her fragile resolve. The next instant she'd joined him on the floor, devouring his mouth as his arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her on top of him. There may or may not have been another demon still in the crypt –she had a hazy recollection of Xander and Anya giving something the beat down– but that didn't matter right now. Spike was alright and he was kissing her, grinding his hips up into hers, and nothing else mattered.

And then, suddenly, it did.

Oh, it did.

For a moment she wanted to ignore it, this sudden rush of knowledge that she was kissing Spike and that was wrong on so many levels. It felt good. So, so good. And if she kept her eyes closed and didn't think about who it was she was kissing . . . God, she'd never felt so alive as this moment, or so cherished. So _loved_.

But this _was_ Spike. The fact could not be ignored. And Spike was a vicious, soulless killer. And, so help her, if this was some trick to get close enough to kill her— She wrenched herself off and away from him, staring down in disgust. After a moment's hesitation he mimicked her actions.

She wiped at her mouth, tempted to spit onto the crypt floor. "Oh, ugh."

Spike did spit. And then he gagged. Jerk.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

"Spike lips! Lips of Spike!" she complained loudly, making a great show of trying to get the taste of him out of her mouth. She turned away, deciding she might spit after all, and that's when she noticed Willow. A suspiciously sheepish looking Willow.

Oh God. Xander and Giles were right. Willow did this.

Willow waved. "Hi, guys."

Buffy had the sudden urge to punch her. She didn't do it, of course, Willow was human and therefore very breakable. And angry as she was now, Buffy knew she'd regret it later if she hurt her best friend. Still, they were going to have a serious talk later, Willow could count on that. In fact, some serious scolding might be in order right now.

Xander beat her to it. "Willow! Do you know what you did? Giles was blind, and demons were everywhere, and, and, you made Buffy think she was in love with Spike! Evil, Slayer of Slayers, _Spike!_"

"Who seems to have gone missing," Anya observed.

"Spike!" Xander yelped, spinning around, searching frantically for him. "Where's Spike?" he turned to Buffy, wide-eyed. "Buffy, do you still have a stake on you? We've got to go after Spike."

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Willow interrupted before the slayer could respond. "I can help you find him. He was kissing you, right? So there's probably some of his, err," she hesitated as Buffy glared at her. "Well, yeah, I can do a locator spell now. It'll be easy."

"I don't believe that would be wise." Giles cold tone had the witch shrinking into the wall.

"You can supervise?"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not going after Spike."

"But, you were so worried before," Willow said meekly.

"Before? I'm still worried. All those in favor of worrying raise your hand." Xander followed his own instructions, lifting his right hand high in the air. When no one followed suit he lowered it back to his side with a frown. "Why are we not worried? Spike is out there, and now that he doesn't think he's –and I can't believe I'm going to willingly utter these words– now that he doesn't think he's in love with Buffy I doubt he's going to keep his spell-induced promise to behave."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "If Spike wanted trouble you'd all be unconscious on the floor now. He's probably already on his way out of town, we'd never catch him." Really, it was only half the reason. She couldn't admit it to them, but after spending most of the evening engaged to him she couldn't imagine dusting him right now. She hoped he really did have the sense to leave town, because if she saw him again she'd have to stake him.

"So we're alright with him causing trouble in other towns?"

Buffy clenched her jaw. "The Hellmouth is my turf. I have enough problems without chasing down every demon who waltzes through town."

"But this is _Spike_."

"Enough," Giles interjected. "Buffy is quite right. Reckless as he is, Spike knows when to cut his losses. It's doubtful we'll be seeing him again anytime soon. And so long as Spike isn't actively making trouble in Sunnydale he is not our problem. Now I suggest we return to my flat and get this sorted." The look he shot Willow had her cringing once more and left no doubt in any of their minds what he thought was the greater threat at the moment. Meekly the young adults followed after their mentor.

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Chapter End Notes:

I will do my best to post the next chapter on Saturday since it wraps up the Something Blue "arc". Hope you enjoyed; thanks for reading.

reenas-as


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This story wraps up the Something Blue Arc, so I'll be taking a break next weekend and probably not posting.

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CH 9

Spike took the opportunity to slip out of the crypt while the Slayer and her chums were otherwise occupied. He started out for Restfield and then changed his mind, veering off across town toward the apartment complex the Bit had so recently taken up residence in.

She'd known.

Damn it. She'd known and she hadn't warned him. Buggering cruel thing to do to a friend.

He was still tasting Slayer on his lips, and not in the way that would have been natural. No, it wasn't the rich, full flavor of slayer-blood that lingered on his tongue, it was a far more intoxicating taste.

He licked his lips without thinking.

She tasted sweet. So sweet. And her mouth had been so hot. In the little fantasies he'd occasionally indulged in –the ones where he made her want it, want _him_, before he tore her throat out– he'd never accounted for her heat, or what it would do to him. God, but he wanted more. She'd felt so good up against him, on top of him. He'd never had a human. Too proper in life, and now, well, he didn't like to play with his food. Not much. And no matter how many times Dru'd stepped out on him he'd never responded in kind. One woman vamp, he was, and that woman had been as cold as he.

But not Buffy. And it wasn't just her heat he was craving, it was something more.

Was it always like that with the living, or was it just the Slayer?

Something told him it was her. Buffy. It wasn't the heat or the sweetness. Not just those. It was the strength, the power. And maybe a little bit of something that wasn't anything but her.

He'd never get her out of his head now. Never. Oh, he'd push it to the back of his mind, but it would always be there, lingering, waiting for the quiet moments, the weak moments, to consume him.

Dru's rantings drifted through his mind. Ashes, sunshine, and the Slayer.

He growled.

She could have at least warned him.

He didn't bother with pleasantries like knocking when he arrived. Had an invite, didn't he? No need to be polite. The door hit the wall with a bang, shuddering with the full force of his supernatural strength. He slammed it closed behind him with equal force, satisfied to hear the wood groan. If that door had been less than solid wood it'd likely have shattered.

Dawn looked between him and the door with an arched brow. "And hello to you too," she said.

He ignored the pointed remark, flinging his arm out behind him. "This couldn't have been one of those things you came back to stop from happening?"

Dawn's brow furrowed and for a moment she actually looked concerned. "What are you— oh." Her gaze fixed on his ringless hand and understanding lit in her eyes.

He'd nearly forgotten that part. Bugger. Gonna have to buy a new ring. Not much hope the Slayer'd give it back. Probably burned the thing already.

"That was today?" She was grinning now and he had to clench a fist to keep from hitting her. Yeah, she'd known. "I'm sorry I missed it."

He worked his jaw, trying to rein in his temper. Thought this was funny, did she? He begged to differ. She might too if she actually took a moment to think about the implications. "Glad you find this so amusin' pet, but I think you're forgetting the important part."

"And what's that?"

"Slayer knows I'm here now. What's to stop her from tracking me down and dusting me in my sleep?"

He was satisfied to see the color drain from her face.

"Oh crap."

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"I'll see your 'oh crap' and raise you a bloody buggering _fuck_."

Dawn ignored him. "We are so screwed," she muttered.

"Believe that's what I just said."

She scowled at him. He was right, darn it. She hadn't thought about the implications of the spell going off exactly as it had before. Mainly because she hadn't expected it to now that Spike wasn't bunking in Giles' bathtub. And she'd been perfectly content to let the rest proceed as scheduled. It wasn't as though anything really bad happened under that spell. And it kept Willow in check for at least a year or two.

Heck, even the part with Spike and Buffy wasn't bad in and of itself. The memories of that spell induced bliss (and spell induced kissing) had played a large part in forcing Spike to acknowledge his feelings for Buffy and, though she had never admitted it, had probably spurred along Buffy's attraction to Spike as well. It had simmered in the back of their minds, prodding them, reminding them what they could have. In fact, Buffy had told Dawn once that she'd never felt so cherished and adored as she had during her magical engagement to Spike. So, as far as Dawn's overall plan went, it was a good thing this happened, if only because it opened the doorway for Buffy to see Spike as a potential lover. It was probably good for Spike too – not only as a catalyst to admit his feelings, but it would also give him something tangible to fight for. A memory, not just an idea.

Provided he lived long enough to do anything about it.

And there was the real problem.

The first time around Spike had been chipped and in the custody of the scoobies. They'd known he was there and they'd known he was harmless. Had the engagement weirded them out? Absolutely. But it hadn't been cause for alarm. Not once Willow reversed it. Dawn could only imagine how they'd reacted to the sudden appearance of an unchipped Spike. It was lucky they hadn't staked him on sight. They might still try. Now that they knew he was in Sunnydale they were going to be looking for him. No way was Buffy going to let William the Bloody lurk about town. Especially after that spell. Repressed emotion fueled rage and all . . .

"I'll just write her a note."

"A note?" His mouth gaped incredulously. "That's it? You're gonna write one of your bleeding notes? And what's it gonna say? 'Don't kill Spike, you'll need him in a few months to save the world'?"

"I'll add a please!"

"'Cause that'll make all the soddin' difference!"

"You helped her save the world before; we just have to hope that she remembers that."

"Bloody hell." He ran agitated fingers through his hair, mussing it.

Dawn wasn't stupid. She knew that the real problem here, at least from Spike's point of view, wasn't a possible dusting. Even if he did have deeply buried feeling for her sister already he wasn't anywhere near ready to acknowledge them. Add to that the fact that in this timeline he still had his Big Bad image to maintain and, well, his demon was probably more than a little pissed. Plus, she'd known and she hadn't even thought to warn him. Yes, that was because it shouldn't have happened, but it wouldn't seem that way to him. He was probably feeling betrayed on top of humiliated.

"Spike, if it makes any difference, I really didn't know this was going to happen."

"Really?" he asked sharply. "Because it seems to me you knew exactly what was going to happen. Or were you tittering at my lack of ring tan lines?"

She sighed. "I mean, I knew it happened before, in my timeline. But I didn't expect it to happen now. Not the part with you and Buffy. Why would Willow have put that in the spell at all?" She paused, thoughtful. "Hold on a minute. Why _did_Willow do that part of the spell? I mean, the first time you'd esc— err, the first time they knew about you and the chip. Buffy was looking for you because you'd promised them information on the commandos. But this time they shouldn't even know you're in town." Her eyes narrowed and her hands came up to prop above her hips. "Spike, how did they know you were in town?"

"How should I know?" he snapped, defensive. "Spell jerked me off the street and into the old warehouse Dru and I stayed in the first time we were in town. Probably would have snatched me up from anywhere and deposited me in the Slayer's lap."

It was probably true. But there was still the matter of why Willow would even mention Spike if she didn't have reason to think he was in town and Buffy was looking for him. Plus there'd been that look in Spike's eyes. That flash of realization right before his gaze had slid almost guiltily away from hers.

She pinned him with a look and he shifted in discomfort.

"Fine. Might have sensed the Slayer when I was making my blood run. But she couldn't have seen me! I checked."

"Yeah, well, she must have. Because from what I remember from last time it was Buffy abandoning Willow to look for you that spurred Willow to say the two of you should get married. And I doubt you happened to be brought up in casual conversation."

He crossed his arms and leaned back against her wall, sulking.

She sighed and relaxed her posture. "Look, I'm not saying it's your fault, Spike. I just, yeah, definitely gonna need that note. A long one."

Spike just scowled.

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As if a note was somehow going to assuage his pride? The only silver lining to this was that the Slayer was no more likely than he was to go spreading the tale around town. Last thing he needed was it getting around that he'd snogged the slayer – and liked it.

Bollocks, but this was a mess. And who knew if the Bit's note would do a lick of good. He'd seen the look of the Slayer's face when she'd pushed off him. She was disgusted. Didn't matter it hadn't been his fault, she'd stake him good and proper the next time they met. And why shouldn't she? They were mortal enemies, weren't they?

Bit had started scribbling away and Spike had no choice but to hope for the best. Couldn't shove the cat back in the bag now. Dawn obviously wasn't going to reconsider him leaving town and he'd given his word.

Buggering honor. Stupid Victorian git.

Dawn paused in her writing. "Oh, and Spike? Now that she knows you're here it probably wouldn't hurt to engender some good will."

Right. 'Cause it was as simple as that. "An' just how do you suggest I do that?" he asked, frown firmly in place.

"You could patrol."

"Patrol," he repeated, "why the bloody hell would I patrol?"

"You've been complaining about missing the violence," she pointed out. They stared at one another, each determined, until Spike finally looked away sullenly.

Bint had a point. Could do with a spot of violence and this was the only way he was gonna get it and not get staked before he could do his bit with the world savage.

"Right," she said cheerily, "Let me make sure they get the note first, and then: patrol."

"So, if I'm 'patrolling' what's to stop these soldiers from snatching me up then?" he asked, though why he was trying to talk her out of allowing him more freedom he didn't know. Pure stubbornness, maybe.

"I thought you said you could handle yourself now that you know to watch for them?"

"Can. But that didn't seem to satisfy you before."

She smiled brightly. "Yeah, well, Buffy won't let them get you as long as you're being good."

He snarled, remembering his argument with the slayer while he was magically besotted. Wrong, the whole thing was just wrong. "Not good. Still evil here."

She had the nerve to roll her eyes. "Fine. Let me rephrase. Buffy won't let them get you as long as you're helping. Is that better?"

"Don't need her protection."

"Well, it'll make me feel better."

"And, anyway, Slayer's not gonna agree to be my nursemaid off your say so. Even if you can convince her not to stake me on sight."

Dawn became serious at that, staring at him for so long he almost broke down and begged her to spit it out.

"You're not going to fight her, are you?" she asked quietly.

"That's up to her, innit? Not gonna let her stake me."

"But you'd try to talk to her first, right? And then you'd run?"

He sighed. Much as he was itching for a good row he knew that the world, not to mention his continued unlife, depended on him having some self-control here. "Won't kill her," he promised at length. "And I'll try to earn her trust. But you're gonna have to clue her in to this world-saving bit if there's any chance she's gonna let me hang about. As for the commandos, well, I'll keep out of their way. Can't imagine they'll have much cause to be suspicious if I'm not out snacking."

"Thank you."

He only grunted in response. Becoming a right nancy, he was. He licked his lips, unconsciously seeking out the taste of Buffy once more, and instead caught a faint hint of what he thought might be chocolate chip cookies.

What the hell?

Had to be his diet. Soddin' pigs' blood; was drivin' him batty as Dru.

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Buffy went straight to her watcher's guest bathroom and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash. Then she did it again. And again. She was going to have to buy Giles a new bottle. She contemplated taking a shower, but for some reason every time she looked at the old fashioned tub it made her think of Spike. Which was way weird, because they'd never left the main room. But she couldn't take a shower while thinking about Spike in that tub. Nope. So instead she settled for wetting a washcloth in the sink and wiping down every bit of skin her clothing didn't cover – twice.

By the time she emerged Willow was pulling batch of cookies from the oven, and it didn't look to be her first. There was already a plate on the counter, plus the one Anya was holding as Willow piled cookies onto it. Well, at least some good was coming out of this mess. This was the closest to getting along Buffy had ever seen the two girls

"How long are you going to keep making these?" Anya asked with a frown.

Or maybe not.

"Oh, until I don't feel so horribly guilty," Willow said. "I figure about a million chips from now. Also, I have to detail Giles' car."

No one seemed to have noticed her, so Buffy took the rare opportunity to observe. As she stood in the small alcove watching Xander test Giles' returned eyesight and Willow pass around cookies, her eyes seemed to wander of their own accord. Which wouldn't have been so bad if her mind hadn't followed after them. There was the mantel, where she'd kissed Spike after he started looking for the general reversal spell to help Giles. And that little round rug was where they'd been standing when he promised to behave for her. Well, sorta promised, and they'd kissed again. And the chair. God, she'd never be able to look at that chair again. In fact, every part of Giles' tiny living room now held memories of being held in the loving embrace of William the Bloody.

And that was the weirdest part, really. He had been loving. Truly loving. He was willing to help her watcher and protect her friends. He'd even been willing to give up human blood for her. Was that all just part of the spell? From what Xander said Willow had only specified the two of them should get married, nothing more, and Buffy had been around long enough to know that marriage didn't always equate to love. Not for everyone.

Maybe it was because she and Spike equated marriage with love? Which was wigsome on a level all its own because it meant admitting that Spike was capable of love, even without his soul. And, yeah, a hundred and twenty years with the same chic did seem to prove that, but what he and Dru had could have been obsession, or the sire bond. Still, she'd seen him when Dru dumped him last year. That had been pretty genuine grief. But if Spike could love without a soul what did that mean for everything Giles and the Council had taught her? What did it say about the whole Angel/Angelus situation?

"Eat a cookie; ease my pain?"

Willow's interruption was a merciful reprieve and Buffy smiled as she took a chocolate chip cookie and took a huge bite. Yummy. "Mm. Better?"

Willow shrugged. "Well, baking lifts about thirty percent of my guilt, but only seven percent of my inner turmoil. Guess that'll just take a while."

"It'll happen," Buffy promised, taking another bite of the cookie. It really was very good. And, as an added bonus, helped to remove the taste of mint mouthwash from her mouth, which meant that maybe she could stop thinking about why her mouth tasted like mint mouthwash, which was so that it wouldn't still taste like Spike. She grabbed two more cookies off the plate and shoved the other into her mouth all at once.

"You got any more of these?" she asked, noting the empty plate before walking into the kitchen.

Willow winced as she followed after. "Did I mention about the sorry part?"

"We may be into a forgetting spell later." Buffy paused mid-cookie stacking. "I loved him." It hit her anew as she looked back at her friend and saw the living room from a new angle. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image of adoring blue eyes that swam before her briefly. "We were betrothed." She made a face.

"Well, at-at least you were getting along." Willow offered weakly.

Buffy leaned back against the counter, playing with her six-high cookie stack. "But we weren't. I mean, I wasn't even nice. And the bad-boy thing— over it. Okay, I totally get it. I'd be really happy to be in a nice relationship with a decent, reliable . . . Oh my God! Riley thinks I'm engaged." The cookies tumbled to the ground as she pushed off the counter.

"What?"

"Riley. He-he-he saw me. What the hell am I going to say?!"

There was a moment of absolute silence as everyone in the room stopped to look at her.

"Did I mention that I'm really, _really _sorry?"

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It took her some time to get the wording just right –vague enough without being too vague– but eventually Dawn was happy with her note. A quick glance at the clock told her she had time to get a few hours of sleep before she attempted delivery. She'd decided her best bet was to don her random-co-ed disguise and try to slip it into Buffy's things on campus. But right now it was two in the morning and Spike had only left half an hour ago. If she knew her sister most of Buffy's classes would be in the afternoon, and the gang was probably still at Giles' apartment anyway. She had time for a nap.

When she woke up it was just after noon and she took her time doing her make-up and putting up her hair. It was a shorter style than she'd ever worn, but she kind of liked the way it so easily went into a twist. Claw clip, couple of bobby pins and she was done. She picked up the hat she'd bought a couple days before on a whim and settled it atop her head. Cute. And very not Dawn, so it was perfect.

Once she was dressed she set out for the campus, pondering the best way to locate Buffy without letting it be known that she was trying to locate Buffy. She figured if she hung around the coffee shop long enough her sister was bound to pass by. She should have brought a book.

Fortunately, the Powers must have been on her side, because she'd barely reached the quad when Buffy showed up, accompanied by a familiar face.

Well, at least she hadn't messed anything up there. Buffy's relationship with Riley seemed to be progressing exactly as it had before. Dawn stopped at the trash can and pretended to dig through her pockets and bag as she waited for the pair to pass by. Soon she could hear Buffy's laughter floating through the air. And, wow, how did he not notice how fake that was? But then Riley had failed to notice a lot of things about Buffy before it was too late.

"You thought I was serious?" Buffy asked.

"Well, no," Riley answered hesitantly. "Um . . . you weren't serious?"

"Oh, God, please. I'm marrying a guy named Spike?"

She would be if Dawn had anything to say about it. Though not literally, of course. Although with some fake papers or something . . . She wondered if Spike had ever thought about it. Her future Spike, that was, not current Spike.

"Maybe. We haven't known each other that long."

"No, it's just— I saw that fear in your eyes when you caught me looking at wedding dresses, and I had to give you a hard time."

Oh God. Dawn rolled her eyes. Like that wasn't the worst excuse ever? Clearly Riley was already besotted because the only way anyone would believe that shoddy ruse was if they really wanted to.

"I did not have fear in my eyes."

"Yes, you did. You were looking at me like I was a cartoon ball and chain."

Besotted or no, even Riley seemed a little dubious about that one. "So you decided to tell me you're getting married."

"Uh-huh."

"So, you're insane?"

"Uh-huh!"

And wasn't that the truth?

"But you're still single."

And pathetic, Dawn thought. Wow. How had these two ever managed to stay together for more than a year? It was a miracle they hadn't imploded after a few weeks. For that matter, how had they gotten together at all? They gave new meaning to the world clueless.

And also, they were now close enough for her to accomplish her mission, thank God. She needed to get out of here before she lost all respect for both of them.

Somewhere Dawn managed to wrangle up a tissue, which she tossed into the trash can before she turned away. As she passed the soon-to-be couple she realized Buffy wasn't wearing a purse or even carrying any books. Not to be deterred she tucked the note into Buffy's back pocket as she brushed by. Her sister didn't so much as flinch. Hurray for nimble fingers, a vampire pocket-picking tutor, and a well-distracted Buffy.

As she left campus and returned to her apartment Dawn could only hope the note would be enough. She wasn't an idiot. She knew she was walking a delicate tight rope here, trying to change parts of the future while leaving others essentially untouched. The universe was deeply interconnected and she had to be careful or a seemingly harmless tug would unravel everything.

For the first time she thought she might understand how Buffy had always felt. The weight of the world was on her shoulders. One wrong step and it could be the end.

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A/N: And Dawn returns, for those who missed her. Sorry if this felt anticlamactic for anyone. There is a reason for everything, it'll just be a very long time before you find out (for sure) what it is. Thanks for reading.

reenas-as


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